Dribbles 2
by Drel Murn
Summary: My second collection of abandoned stories and short oneshots.
1. Celtic Knots:Harry Potter

Title: **Celtic Knots**  
Category: Books » Harry Potter  
Author: Morgan K'Treva  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Family/General  
Published: 07-21-14, Updated: 11-05-16  
Chapters: 16, Words: 17,119

* * *

 **Chapter 1: All the Pretty Little Horses**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Prologue, All the Pretty Little Horses**

 _December 22, 1979 (Winter Solstice), Unspecified Location near the Sea_

I give an excited wicker as I spot Marrow and canter up to him to gently butt his neck, careful of my horn. He gives me a scathing look out of the corner of his eye before he picks up the rest of the dead squirrel and throws his head back to swallow it like a bird.

 _:What do you want, Aysel?:_ he asks as I hear Iro and Titan stop behind me.

 _:Come and play with us!:_ Iro answers excitedly, her grey legs prancing in place as Titan shyly nods his large head; his long, white mane covering his eyes.

"No Marrow, you should play with us!" Eos and Tirta exclaim as the canter up to us. Tirta's human arms are carefully grasping the centaur's waist, her silver necklace swinging.

 _:I don't want to play.:_ Marrow grumbles, tearing the head of his last rat off. I sigh and settle down next to him, used to his moods, but Eos and Tirta look determined.

I can almost understand why since it's been three moon cycles since the Autumn Equinox Meeting, but we'll be here tomorrow as well. Tomorrow we won't be interrupted in the middle to go to another boring meeting, but from the look on their faces they don't care. Tirta opens her mouth to speak, but before she can she's interrupted.

 _:Children.:_ a strict voice speaks, and the five of us who had been bugging Marrow turn to look at Titan's father. His eyes soften slightly and he speaks again after a moment. _:The meeting will be starting soon, and you can all play after.:_

I sigh but reply an affirmative with the rest of the group before I nudge Marrow to finish the rest of his rat. The two of us go off to find our parents. As usual, we find them next to each other and talking: our mothers about the latest children to have wandered into the forest, and our fathers about whom a seen them this year. I grumble slightly to myself as I settle down next to Marrow and watch the rest of the crowd slowly do the same.

I bob my head to Titan and the rest of the Abraxan Winged Horses on the other side of the clearing. They stand out because of their size compared to Iro and the Granians. Then I look around and identify the rest of the horses in the clearing: the chestnut and white Aethonan Winged Horses; the distinctly hawk like Tulpar; the Glashtyn or Cabyll-ushtey with their green and dripping coats, who were glaring at the indifferent Each-uisge; the Each-uisge with their dripping blue pelts, or for those that had taken their human form, their mud and sand filled black hair; the two Chinese winged horses, the Chollima and the Tianma, the first of supposedly celestial origin and the second swift and elegant, cousins to the Granians.

There were also the Gytrach, known as the Grimm, settling down in either their dog or horse forms; the Diomedians with their pile of corpses; the Hippogriffs with their eagle front ends; the three-legged Helhests; the eight-legged Sleipnir; the half-human Centaurs, who were already looking up at the rapidly darkening night sky; the Kelpies in either their glossy black coats or in their human form with their silver necklaces; the utterly wild and untamed Karkadanns; and the half-fish Hippocampi, who were settling in the shallows of the sea. I turn slightly so I can see mine and Marrow's parents, the Unicorns and Thestrals, and sigh, satisfied with being able to identify all of the horses here.

Suddenly, a young centaur hits his staff several times on the stone resting next to him on the sand. "Order!"

Everyone went silent after a few moments, even in mindspeak as far as I can tell, and almost like a wave they turned to the centaur. I observe him, taking in the details as my mom said to, and note the acromantula scars on his shoulder, the jagged claw marks running diagonally down his chest, his braided brown hair, the warm wood of his bow, the braided quiver strap across his chest, and the white feathers of the arrows sticking up over his shoulder.

"Thank you," he says with a smile before speaking the ritual words my parents had taught me. "We sent the message loud and clear, we hold this meeting for all to hear."

"For all to hear, for all to see, we hold this meeting by the sea," I murmur with the rest of the crowd, and the centaur once again smiles as the ritual that I can half remember from last year is complete.

"Now, I open this meeting to any concerns or other comments, and would like to introduce a topic from the centaurs," the centaur says, stepping to the side to allow an older centaur to be seen. His white hair is in a simple ponytail as far as I can tell, though many small wisps stick up and there are feathers, rocks, and stones braided into the silvery hair that hangs over his shoulder as he gently sways forward. He is wrinkled and there are scars all over his skin. There is neither bow nor quiver for him, only a single arrow that he is rolling back and fourth in his hands.

"It is the stars," the elder centaur says as the crowd begins murmuring, breaking the quiet. "So we have seen, and so I shall tell you."

"So we are told, calmly we will reply," murmurs the crowd around us.

"Mars has dimmed!" the elder centaur says, giving a quicksilver smile as he throws his head back. "So he dims, so he dims! And now, our Leo is coming to Earth!"

 _:Mars? Do you think he means the star of the god and harbinger of war?:_ I ask quietly and he sends me a shake of his mane, our equivalent of a shrug.

:I think so.: Marrow adds. He shudders then and moves his skeletal body closer. _:I'm cold, Aysel. Keep me warm?:_

But the elder isn't done yet, and after shaking back his hair he holds up both hands with the arrow in his right hand to quiet the crowd.

"Our Leo is coming to Earth," he says, eyes serious. "But even as Mars has dimmed, he will grow brighter and brighter after only a year of dimness. Following Libra, yet standing alone, our Leo has come to Earth."

There is more muttering and the crowd parts as the elder gently walks back to the centaurs, but the young centaur bangs his staff once again. "Does any other group wish to present a topic?"

There's muttering for a moment before a Hippocampi sent out a sound that was half-nicker, and half-dolphin chatter as it clumsily moves to take a place in front. My eyes slip shut as the stars come out and the last thing I remember before everything fades away is resting my neck on Marrow's is the sound of mindspeak and voices against the sea's wind and water.

* * *

 _I don't own Harry Potter, The Heralds of Valdemar, nor some of the other concepts I put into 'Knotsverse._

 _As promised! Here it is, the first chapter of my (rewritten) story. For those who have stuck with me after I took it down, I thank you, and warn you that this will be different._

 _Also, I will be posting information on a website I share with my friend, the lovely Mountain Sky, under 'Knotsverse, which will be under HP. The link to her main page is in my profile. I might also post my draft eventually! I hope you all like this!_

 _-Morgan Stares K'Treva_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Birth, Abandonment**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Birth, Abandonment**

 _Out of time, Out of space_

Yfandes gently rests a hand on my shoulder as I bury my face into Stef's neck, again, taking a deep breath before I step back and give him a watery smile.

"See you when I see you?" I ask, setting my forehead against his with a shuttering breath.

"See you when I see you," he replies firmly leaning forward to give me a light kiss, barely brushing lips, before he pulls back.

"Come on," Yfandes says while gently pulling me to the room and pushing my down shoulders to make me sit in the chair. "You know what happens now, right?"

"Yes," I say, wiping my eyes.

"Good," says a harried looking reaper sitting across from Yfandes and I, a hand running through his hair as he straightens his suit. "Because I'm sick of dealing with newbies and kids who have been stuck in Haven so long they forgot what it was."

He pauses and gives the two of us an approving once over. "I always love getting you Velgarth Folks as well as those Hindus and Buddhists. Almost everyone else only wants their "Eternal Rest" or some other shtick."

He continues grumbling as he hits a button, making the lights dim slightly, and a holographic display appear above the faded blue surface of his desk. I watch as he swipes sideways and types, his eyes focused as he accesses my files, humming slightly.

"Alright," the reaper mutters, pushing his glasses up his nose and making them reflect the light of the holographic display. He taps one more thing before smiling and glancing back up. "So do you want the details? General description? Summary?"

I take a deep breath before I reply, "Just when Yfandes, Stef, Medren, and I are to be born."

The reaper nods at me before looking down for a second and tapping something. Flicking the holograph to the side he put it onto its' own display and hands it to me. I 'take' the screen from him and scan it.

 **Torin Andrew Sayer:** 21 Aug 1980, 1:00 a.m.

 **Rowan Teagan Sayer:** 21 Aug 1980, 1:00 p.m.

 **Luna Pandora Lovegood:** 13 Feb 1981, 3:47 a.m.

 **Lela Anastasia Lightnight:** 9 Nov 1980, 9:38 p.m.

"Who's who?" I ask the reaper before looking up at him as he patiently waits for me.

"Ah, yes," the reaper says, flicking a block of light up from the holographic light display on his desk to the light I'm holding. "Sorry, forgot about that."

I look back down and smile, reading the names.

 **Torin Andrew Sayer (Vanyel Ashkevron, Herald):** 21 Aug 1980, 1:00 a.m.

 **Rowan Teagan Sayer (Stefen, the Bard):** 21 Aug 1980, 1:00 p.m.

 **Luna Pandora Lovegood (Yfandes, companion):** 13 Feb 1981, 3:47 a.m.

 **Lela Anastasia Lightnight (Medren, the Bard):** 9 Nov 1980, 9:38 p.m.

"You good now?" the reaper asks as I set the hologram onto the table, and I nod as Yfandes puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Let's go then," the reaper says in satisfaction reaching forward and pressing his index and middle finger to my forehead. The last thing I see is Yfandes's hands coming up to cover my eyes.

* * *

 _Out of time, Out of space_

I watch sadly as Van wipe his eyes and the door closes behind him before Medren settles his arm around my shoulder and pulls me over to my door.

"You know," I choose to comment as we enter. "I still think it's weird that you were a girl for the two lives before you were Medren."

Medren snorts with laughter and the two of us settle into the chairs provided as he replies, "Nah, you're just jealous Stef! I was quite the looker, I'll have you know."

"Quite the looker, I agree with," I retort. "But, in no way am I jealous. If I'd been a girl, who knows how our lifebond would have worked?"

"Um, so I know you're totally not into girls, Vanyel, but I still think we're lifebonded," Medren mocks me.

"No, you two are not lifebonded. And if I had my way, you two would be recycled," a feminine voice says from behind us.

Medren and I turn to watch the reaper as she stalks in, rolling the over-sized sleeves of her white shirt up with childish hands. The two of us stare, and after another moment of fixing her appearance, putting her pigtails back into order, she looks up at us and snaps in an irritated voice, "What? You're from Valdemar, and you're even those Heralds of theirs. So, you know what you want. You two are wasting my break period."

Medren breaks out laughing again, and the reaper simply rolls her eyes. She abruptly turns and marches around the desk to climb onto something before she starts tapping at the holographic display sitting slightly above the washed out looking blue of her desk. It only takes ten seconds before the reaper is back to tugging at her hair as she asks in a disinterested voice, "So, what do you want to know?"

"Nothing," I reply at the same time as Medren, making the reaper look up and smile at us for the first time since she got here.

"Now that's the spirit!" she grins.

"Alright fire boy," she says pointing at me, "you first."

I obligingly lean forward, and she taps her index and middle finger on my forehead, and then I'm gone.

* * *

 _August 21, 1980, 1:00 a.m., Gilbert Bain Hospital, Scotland_

I scream, gasping and coughing, as I hit something and already the warmth is leaving me. I can't feel Stef'Lendel'Ashke and I'm freezing and _ohgodohgod it's the ice again growingandcoveringandfreezingandcutting_ and- and- an- a-

* * *

 _August 21, 1980, 1:00 p.m., Unknown House, London, England_

I gasp and throw my head back, just barely holding in a scream as a contraction passes and I collapse against the box behind me, again. Panting before another contraction hits, my grip tightens on the metal bar next to me. When the new contraction passes, I whimper slightly. I can almost imagine him sitting there next to me, holding my hand as he whispers to me things I already know.

I gasp as another contraction hits me and for a moment I feel something slide out of me. I can hear him whispering into my ear, not flinching despite the strong grip I have on his hand, saying, _"That's it you can do it, you're almost there, just a little more…"_ and I sob as the contraction ends. Suddenly I feel so empty, like a vital organ had been forced out, so I force my head up to look forward at the blood and I see the child not moving. I'm just starting to sob, one of my only reminders not even alive, when he takes a breath. My beautiful, beautiful boy takes a breath.

* * *

 _August 21, 1980, 6:00 p.m., Unknown Street, London, England_

I walk down the street nervously, clutching my precious bundle to my chest. I blink back tears at I walk towards the church. When I get there, I walk in and sit on an empty pew, the sound of recorded chanting filling the air around me. I carefully set the bundle I had been carrying down next to me, careful to support his head, and for a moment I simply stare at him. Gently smoothing the already dark peach fuzz down onto his head as he sleeps, my hand raises to my throat and I clutch at the dogs tags.

Somewhere, someone coughs and I startle, my hand clutching the dog tags harder for a moment before I snap the small chain off of my necklace. I close the chain and tuck it into my baby's blanket. I take one more look at him, his ears the color of his father's skin and I want to cry. Instead I leave, leave the church behind me, running as soon as I'm out of sight.

* * *

 _By the way, the times and the dates are important, so make sure you pay attention to those._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: A Death in the Family**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: A Death in the Family**

 _October 31, 1980, Sayer House, Britain_

I don't know who I am, or where I am, or what's happening. The smell, powdery and milky like the dessert, and the feel of rough cloth around me, and that taste of that milky scent on my tongue, and an almost insistent babbling or humming and screaming, again and again, that never makes any sense. I reach for something, anything, because this reminds me too much of that time when I was captured before I-

before I-

a spark reacts, reaching back-

sensations come at me-

a red baby lying there screaming, hand reaching out to touch and feeling it on two levels-

something snaps-

my mouth opens and I watch in fascination as the baby relaxes, going silent-

feeling it, I try to move, try to reach-

all I can do is lay there-

the hands flail as the other, the spark, tries to reach the red baby-

more wailing and darkness tugs me away, loosening me from the spark and pulling me into a warm soft -

* * *

 _November 10, 1980, Sayer House, Britain_

I watch Monday float the bubbles and smoke rings above Jereth with a smile as I cradle Torin in my arms. Jereth looks away from the colors and laughs happily as he tries unsteadily to walk to me. Monday quickly puts her wand into her back pocket and kneels down to support him as he reaches for Torin. He giggles again as Torin's eyes open and he moves his head to look in Jereth's vague direction.

"They're doing their twin thing again," Monday laughs as the two go silent, staring at each other.

"Well, they are going to be in the same year at Hogwarts," I reply with a laugh. "Might as well get some practice tricking people."

Monday smiles at me again, and I lean forwards to kiss her. Jereth's giggles make me sit back as he looks at us.

"Ma! Da! 'O'in!" he says proudly, pointing at each person as he names them before looking back down at Torin's pale face and tilting his head. "Me?"

Then he toddled over to the mirror in the corner of the room and pointed proudly at his reflection. "Me! Te-e!"

I smile at his pronunciation of his name as Monday brings him back over, just as they reach the couch, the window in front of me shatters.

I bolt to me feet and run as fast as I can while still supporting Torin properly and set him down in the warded cupboard we had created just in case something like this ever happened and I close the door. I can hear Monday fighting as I run back and summon Jereth into my arms, turning on the spot and sprinting back to the cupboard and setting him in with his little brother. "Stay here and keep the door closed for me, alright?"

I don't wait for Jereth to nod as I close the door and sprint back to the living room.

I throw open the door just in time to scream as the flash of green hits Monday, my beautiful Monday. The Deatheaters turn to face me, their masked faces blank, and I start throwing curses at them, screaming my _hateangerfear_ out. They send another Killing curse at me, but the first thing I did was levitate the glass shards to shield me, and they reflect the curse back to it's owner, leaving me with three more black robed figures to deal with.

I catch a second Deatheater with a Confringo, his last spell shattering a piece of glass that shoots towards me before being caught on my secondary shield and dropping.

The third falls victim to a Knee-Reversing Hex followed by a Horn Tongue Hex and another Confringo.

The last one is hit with a Bedazzling Hex before I throw a transfigured knife at his throat.

The last thing I see is Monday's body limp on the floor after a pop of apparation, worried voices, and a muttered stupify that breaks the last of the shield that's still spinning around me.

* * *

 _November 16, 1980, St. Mungos, Britain_

I wake up to a feeling of mental and emotional numbness and disconnection, as weel as a physical warmth from being half buried under arms. I open my eyes and blink once at the ceiling with its' white tile above me before I shift myself up carefully, not dislodging any of the arms covering me. I blink at the four people surrounding me as I work through what I know, and what I can remember.

Kaiden and Aeronwen are supposed to come over if the talisman alerts them, and I can see all of our our children with a glance to the corner, but Monday is nowhere to be seen. Down by my legs are Kaiden's wife, Iris, and her sibling, Aeronwen's husband, Grey. I blink as a memory comes to me; a memory of Monday falling behind a flash of green light, but it too is disconnected from my emotions.

Kaiden shifts on my bed, mumbling like he always used to when he was about to wake up when our parents forced us into sleepovers. He looks up at the wall across from him, blinking groggily before he turns to look at me with a gasp.

"Sol! You're awake!"

His cry wakes the other three people, who wake much quicker and also give cries of delight. There are tear tracks on all of their faces, but beneath that their expressions are full of relief as they converge upon me hugging me and babbling unintelligibly.

"-said there was a chance that you wouldn't wake up-"

"-were so worried!"

"-Torin was making a big fuss-"

"- Jereth's refused to leave your room-"

"-and Jereth is still making a fuss when we try to take Torin away-"

"-and Lela has started fussing if we don't leave her with them-"

"-and as far as we can tell she wanted -"

Kaiden is the first to realize that something's wrong, and he draws back with a frown as the other three continue to hug my unresponsive body.

"Guys," he says softly, and they cut themselves off to look at him. He nods as me, and I stare at them blankly.

"Sol?" Iris asks softly.

"She's gone, isn't she?" I ask, breaking the silence, and the relief melts off of their faces into sadness.

"Yes," Grey says softly, and the word breaks me.

My heart burns, and I almost want to dig it out of my chest, it hurts so much. The emotions that had been walled away crash into me with the strength of a tsunami, and the last of the control I have over my body fades. My throat tightens and I start having trouble breathing.

The voices around me are raised with panic, but I pay no attention to them because _she's gone_. My wife, the girl I had befriended before I can remember, then fallen in love with as I grew older, is gone. Then suddenly my arms are moved and two weights are placed in them as my head is tilted down so that I can see the pale blonde hair of the children in my arms, hair so much like hers that I want to laugh and cry all at once as I'm reminded of a link to her.

I start to sob as I stare at Jereth, his hands reaching out to touch my face, and his fist tightly wound into Torin's blanket.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: The Aftermath and Funeral**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: The Aftermath and Funeral**

 _November 19, 1980, Lionsmane Mausoleum, Britain_

When I can think again, they tell me that the funeral is today, and hurriedly dress me in a black dress shirt and slacks before sending me off with Kaiden.

I stare blankly at the urn as the ritualistic word are spoken and the shaman places the black marble over the hole and it melts, sealing the hole and engraving itself with my wife's name, life dates, and the words; "We are all stories in the end. Just make it a good one.".

"Sol," Kaiden sighs as he steps up next to me, once the rest of Monday's family and friends gone. I remain silent and stare at the engraved words. "Damn it Sol, you can't live like this!"

I startle at Kaiden's sudden anger, automatically turning to watch him, and he huffs a breath of laughter at that. Before I can turn back to look at the grave, he reaches out and grabs my face, stopping me from turning. "Don't - don't do this, Sol. Please. I know your wife s gone, but what about your children? What happens to them if you keep this up? Do you want them to be orphans?"

I blink, and my breath shutters. Kaiden searches me face, then steps back, letting go of me. I keep watching him. "Well?"

"I - I - Jereth? Torin?"

"They're fine right now," Kaiden replied, watching me like I'm a scared animal about to bolt. "But Torin won't stop crying, and Jareth keeps asking for you. Neither of them have slept much voluntarily."

"Oh," I say. "I should be with them."

"That's right," Kaiden coaxes. "So will you come with me? To see them?"

I turn to look at Monday's grave again, the midday sun behind making the black become a mirror, before I turn back and nod. "Alright."

* * *

 _November 19, 1980, Sayer Farm, Britain_

"Da!" Jereth yells as he walk uncertainly towards me, his arms held out. I kneel down to scoop him us and he grabs a hold of my arm as tight as he can. His pale blonde hair makes me want to freeze, but his shaking keeps me focused on him. He starts babbling, and pointing at the room he had come out of with lots of "an' 'O'in"s. I pause to glance at Kaiden as he leans against Iris, and he nods encouragingly, so I walk towards to door that led to chat used to be my room, and carefully open it.

I look around my old room, taking in the bed with its old, but soft and warm green covers, the bookshelf of my books that I'd brought here to read when Dad wanted to spend some time with Uncle Tristan, the walls pained with a moving forest, and the ceiling with its white and blue sky. All that had been changed was the cradle that Jereth is reaching for.

I walk towards it as the crying tapers off, and I find myself gently rocking Jereth as I look down at Torin, who blinks up at me with unfocused eyes. Jereth wakes at Torrin in excitement. Torin makes a little gurgling noise, and Jereth giggles in return, reaching for him. I carefully set him down into the crib and he immediately shifts himself to sort of curl around him. I watch them as Jereth drifts off slowly into sleep, babbling slightly as he does so. Torin's eye close, and he sort of sighs.

The familiar routine makes me want to cry again, and I back away from the sleeping children, and sit on my bed, my arms over my knees as my breath shutter before I can remind myself that I need to move, to go on. I push the covers back and lie down, breathing in the familiar scent of pine needles that always permeates the farm, my eyes closed as I drift off to sleep to the sound of Jereth babbling quietly in his sleep.

* * *

 _December 25, 1980, Sayer Farm, Britain_

"Tracy!" Grey exclaims, holding his arms out slightly to invite a hug. Tracy smiles lightly at him as she lets him hug her, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Hello, Grey," she greets him when he pulls back. "How have you been?"

"Good," Grey replies warmly, studying Tracy's pale face under her black hair.

"What about you? You don't look like you're feeling so well," Aeronwen asks from beside Grey, placing the hand she wasn't support her baby against Tracy's forehead.

"Don't worry!" Tracy rolls her eyes and bats away Aeronwen's hand. "It's just a little cold."

I watch Kaiden's friends and our generation of family interacting form the corner as I gently rock the cradle next to me.

Kaiden and Iris had insisted that I attend this party despite my disagreements, and so I had been brought out of my room about an hour before guests started arriving for the Christmas Party, and sat in a corner with Jereth and Torin in their cradle. I watch the festivities go by in a daze, talking to anyone who wandered into my corner. Mostly I just watch Aeronwen, my wife's sister (who looks so much like her, with her golden blonde hair and tan skin), and remember my wife. When the festivities are over, and even Grey and Aeronwen are gone, Kaiden comes over to me and gets me back into my bedroom.

I lay there with my eyes open and listen to Iris and Kaiden pick up the mess that came from the party.

". . . he's not getting any better, Kaiden," Iris says softly. "I think he;s actually slipping back now. He's barely managing to look after Jereth with my help, and it's like he doesn't know what to do with Torin."

"I know," Kaiden sighs. "But what should I do? I don't think sending him to St. Mungos or a mental hospital would help."

"I don't know," Iris sighed after a few moments. "Maybe . . . get him a caretaker? One who can babysit as well so that he can see his kids without us being there."

"I'll see what I can do," Kaiden said softly. "I just- I hope he'll get better. It feels wrong, he used to be so vibrantly alive, and now all be does is rock the kids and try to help you with them."

 _A care taker . . ._ the though floats on my mind as my eyes close and I listen to the sound of my children breathing, my mind drifting back to the key that my father had shown me once. _A being of great power with an even greater mind._

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Summoning, For You**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Summoning, For You**

 _January 1, 1981, Forest Aroud the Sayer Manor, Britain_

Tonight is the first time I've been able to sneak off since the idea came to me. I hurry through the woods, throwing glances behind me as I move, my hand clenched tightly around the key. My breathing fogs the air in front of me, but I ignore that as I search for a clear spot in the forest, one where I can see the trees. It won't be long before someone mentions me, and they start to look, but this shouldn't take long.

I throw another glance behind me as I plunge through some bushes, and stumble into a small clearing in the woods. I stop for a moment, panting, before I let go of the key and reach to the chain around my neck, pulling it over my head. I grasp the key once again, shivering slightly in the freezing air now that I'm not longer running, and tilt my head back to I can see the sky, just as my father had described. I can practically hear him as if he's beside me again, my hand reaching up, and I twist, a lock clicking somewhere, and a door opening. I take a few steps back, watching the shimmering energy seem to fly from the sky and gather until there was a door made of starlight in front of me, the key in the door knob. My hand shakes as I reach forward and grasp the knob. I take a deep breath, and open the door.

* * *

 _January 1, 1981, Forbidden Forest, Britain_

My head raises almost unwillingly as the stars flare, Marrow lifting his head from my flank. A centaur bursts into the clearing, making Marrow stand and mantle his wings over me, but the jubilant centaur pays him no attention.

"He's here!" the centaur, whom I now recognize as Faldon, cries triumphantly. "Leo has come!"

His hair flies behind him as he turns and leaps into the trees again, and slowly the forest is filled with the sound of different animals making noise.

 _:He's here,:_ I state, almost numb in disbelief, remembering the prophecy made two years ago. I remember my confusion, and I remember our parents talking to us after it, and now that I know what the centaurs meant, I can understand their reactions. _:He's here Marrow!:_

I let out my own cry, and echoing neigh. Right beside me, Marrow lets out his own cry, which is more or a croak, but it doesn't matter.

 **Leo has come.**

* * *

 _January 1, 1981, Foster Home, Britain_

The four month old child shivered in his cradle, his dark skin contrasting with the white blankets around him. His foster parents, loving though they were had decided not to keep him. They had decided to spend their last night with him, and were noticeably concerned when he started to cry. In their concern, neither of them saw some specific stars flash, and thus they didn't notice how the flash seemed to reassure the child.

* * *

 _January 1, 1981, Sayer Manor, Britain_

Two month old Lela Nightlight, in the crib with Torin and Jereth gripped Torin's thumb tightly for a moment before it happened as tears started falling silently down his face. Jereth, who had his eyes open, let out a horrendous cry that immediately caught the attention of their parents as he tried and failed to wipe Torin's tears away.

* * *

 _January 1, 1981, Forest Around the Sayer Manor, Britain_

The door opened, and a man stepped out, yawning and running through his hair.

"Hello. Yes, I'm a-" he abruptly paused in his speech as he realized that the person he was talking to had crumpled at his feet. He crouched down and poked the blonde man slightly, but all that came from the blonde man was a slight groan, and the red haired man who had come from the now rapidly dissipating star light door rocked back to sit criss cross applesauce. "Oh dear. What did I get myself into this time?"

A couple moment later, someone burst into the clearing.

"Sol!" the man cried at the sight of the blond lying still. He slid to his knees beside the blond as he sent sparks up into the sky with a burst of sound. So worried was he as he checked the blond over that he didn't notice the red haired man sitting with the blond's head in his lap. He shot up with a hiss, his wand pointed at the stranger. "Who are you?"

The red haired man merely sent him a look that was half amused, and half annoyed as he raised a finger to his lips, nodding a head towards the blond on his lap. The brown haired man hesitates, but with a look to Sol lying peacefully on the ground, he reluctantly let his legs fold and deposit him on the ground again.

"Who are you?" he asked again, this time his voice a quiet whisper that barely carried on the cold night air.

"You're his brother," said the red haired man, the non sequitur making the brown haired man blink.

"Cousin. Who are you?"

"I'm Leo," said the red haired man, holding up a hand to forestall any protests. He reached up to his neck, grasping something in the darkness, before he tilted his head back so that the moon light revealed a worn leather collar, like that of a dogs, and a key resting on upon his hand. The small golden key is embedded with rubies, and in the moon light, the sign they make is clear. "I'm the Leo, the original. The lion, the fire."

"The demon," the brown haired man added, his eyes fixed on the glyph on the key.

"You do know!" Leo brightened, his amber eyes gleaming, though his voice remains soft. "I had wondered. A Black then?"

"No," the brown haired man said, tearing his eyes away from the key. "A Sayer. My great great grand mother stole your key when she was disowned for marrying."

"Oh? She must have had spirit," Leo remarked, his hands brushing over the blond man's hair. "So what is your name?"

"I'm Kaiden," said the brown haired man.

"Hello then, Kaiden," said Leo, his eyes dancing. Just then, more people burst into the clearing and swept up to the two people sitting in the center. Kaiden was pushed back as people surrounded Sol, someone throwing a hasty examination spell over Sol, the layered results sparking into being, and sighs of relief sounded all around as the person who had cast it announced that Sol was unharmed. He was then floated up, many different spells layering, and slowly, those who had searched for him drifted back, following the procession until all that was left was Kaiden and Leo. Kaiden watched Leo for a moment more before he closed his eyes, the blue disappearing.

"Come on."

* * *

 _January 1, 1981, Sayer Manor, Britain_

"Kaiden, do you know who you have brought here?" someone asks, their voice sounding far away.

"I know Grandpa Kurt. He's a demon. But Sol summoned him, and I don't know what he was planning, but he must had had some reason."

 _That's Kaiden_ , I think hazily, my focus more on the warmth surrounding me and the slender fingers threading through my hair. _He sounds mad._

"I _can_ hear you," someone remarks lazily, their voice coming from my left.

"I know," Kaiden replies from my right. "You are all of a meter and a half away. How _ever_ could we not know?"

"I could tell you why he did it," the voice from my right sighs. "It's part of the summoning, so that we can be prepared if there is a battle happening. He did it for his children. For some reason, he felt that he was not good enough."

"Oh," Kaiden's voice is weak, and I feel him grasp my hand. My thoughts are coming clearer now, and I feel a vague sense of - annoyance? discomfort? indignation? - that the stranger is revealing my secrets. I squeeze Kaiden's hand now, conscious thought coming closer and closer until I burst into it like a swimmer bursting out of water, a gasp escaping my lips as my eyes fly open.

"Hello," the lazy voice says in amusement, a blur of golden eyes and bright red hair and pale skin filling my vision fo a moment before the person withdraws, leaving the white ceiling above me as I draw in another breath now, less of a gasp and more a simple deep breath before someone hovers over me again.

"Sol? I'm sorry," Kaiden says, his eyes the color of a forget me not, and entirely too close. My breath leaves me in a cough as I flail, but succeed in pushing him back.

"Too close," I grumble, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, frowning at the way it feels unfamiliar. After a moment I open my eyes and push myself up. "Was my fault anyways."

"Sol, do you know what you did?" the person next to Kaiden asks, and I frown at my grandfather.

"I know. I called upon a demon, one bound to another dimension, and planned to ask it to take care of my children when I can't," I say. "Where are my children?"

"They're in the room over," Kaiden says. "Do you want me to bring them to you, or -?"

"I'll walk," I say, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. An arm comes up, supporting me when my vision is temporarily covered with black static, and I almost fall back into bed from dizziness. I blink the dots out of my vision, and nod my head slightly to the red haired person, who smiles. He lest me lean upon him as I move slowly towards the room Kaiden had indicated, and Kaiden come silently to my other side to help, and I sent him a smile. My legs are trembling even with the help by the time I reach the chair next to the cradle, and I collapse into it, feeling like I had run a marathon. Kaiden looks concerned, but he and the stranger still lift my children out of the crib. I smile tiredly down on them, with their pale blond hair, and for the first time since she died, I feel content. I close my eyes.

Behind me I can hear someone humming a lullaby, but it fades away fast, and I'm left with warmth, and the feeling of two bodies in my arms.

* * *

"You helped him. I saw the way he looked at them. Before he could hardly stand to, but now he wants to. You could go."

"No . . . I would stay. If he allows, I'll stay. There's something odd about the little one. He reminds me of someone I met once."

"A thousand years ago?"

"More. I get the feeling he'll be interesting. He seems to have a habit of turning everything on it's head after all."

* * *

 _July 4, 1984, San Diego, California, U.S.A._

"Leo!" I giggle, running up to the red haired man lying on a towel. Jereth runs beside me, an eye on my steps for me, and a hand on my arm. "Leo!"

"Little brat," Leo greets me, not opening his eyes. Jereth blinks, darkness consuming my vision for a moment, but I ignore it. "What?"

"Why did you stay?" I ask in curiosity, my link with Jereth loosening slightly as I stop watching with his vision and let myself be plunged back into the darkness. "Da just told us, you could have left long ago. Why did you stay?"

There's a rustling sound before Leo speaks. "Honestly kid? For you. You were interesting. I stayed for you."

"Oh," I blink, eyelids moving over sightless eyes. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Leo says, and I feel his hand hover over my hair to warn me before it descends and ruffles my hair.

"Come on," Jereth says, quiet like always as he pushes his sight over the bond once again. "Da's probably waiting for us to badger him again.

The sudden brightness shocks me like always, before I grab Jereth's hand and we're running off along the beach again.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Greatest Fear, Deepest Desire, Twins and**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Greatest Fear, Deepest Desire, Twins and Almost Twins**

 _August 21, 1984, Sayer House, Britain_

 _Torin_

I fidget nervously as I listen to my father's footsteps, and then hear the weight of the mirror settle onto the floor of the family room like it had on Jereth and Da's birthdays. My breath quivers as I remember Da breaking down crying in front of this very mirror, unable to look away until Leo had come forward and forcefully covered his eyes, muttering to himself as he draped a cloth over the mirror, and I remember the way Jereth had frowned in confusion at whatever it was that he saw. Now that I'm old enough it's my turn.

I blink my eyes against the blankness that should have always covered my vision as I reach for Jereth's hand of the couch beside me, and his mind as naturally as I breathe. There's a familiar shock before Jereth blinks as I'm looking at the cloth draped mirror that is the source of my worries.

"This is a mirror of Erisid, Torin," my father explains, just as he had explained the Jereth months ago, just as Sol had explained to him. "What you will see is not real. It may hurt, but if you know yourself, you can control you magic better. Do you still wish to do this?"

"Yes," I say, staring at the cloth covered mirror even as my stomach rebels. Da nods, his pale hair flashing in the sunlight coming in between the curtains briefly catching my attention as he pulls the curtain off the mirror before I am riveted to the mirror, curious despite myself of what I want. I blink, then almost gasp at the image before me. Standing before me are two men, one with hair that is black, but filled with white strands despite is unlined face, with his eyes closed as he sleeps against the other man, whose hair if both curly blond, and wavy red, who is combing his fingers gently through the other man's hair as he leans against a tree. He mouths words, and I find myself copying him, almost humming the tune running through the back of my mind.

 _"Every year Companions Choose, as they have done before,_  
 _The Chosen come with shining hopes to learn the Herald's lore._  
 _And every year the Heralds sigh, and give the same advice-_  
 _"All those who would hold Magic's Power must then pay Magic's Price."_

The words are almost familiar, as if I've heard and sung them myself thousands of times.

After a moment of just watching the scene, I let go of Jereth's hand and carefully cross the room to draw the cloth back over the mirror.

I understand now why the mirror made my father react that way, because I don't even know what was happening in mine, yet I already want to see it again. I shake myself and go back to sit with Jereth again, holding his hand tightly. Da smiles at me, but Leo just watches me with a blank face, not allowing his emotions to show as my father floats the mirror back into its hiding spot, and pulls out the boggart in a chest that Uncle Kaiden had given us recently. Once again he asks me if I want to do this, and once again, I say that I do.

I grip Jereth's hand and release it before I move forward and place a hand on the trunk. I open the lid and something zaps out to fast for Jereth to track. He turns to look behind him, but what he sees makes my catch my breath. Lying between us an the kitchen is a body lying on a slab of marble. I approach cautiously, absently noting the white uniform he is dressed in, and I feel like I can't breathe even I I try to take deep breaths. I don't know who he is, but something in me echos with screams, and I rub my wrists before I cautiously reach out and touch the boggart.

Then suddenly I recognize him even as my knees collapse and I cry against his chest. His hair - the curls - he's the blond part of the man that the black and whit haired man was sleeping on. Jereth's sight is long gone, but the sight of him lying dead, with his blonde curls spilling over the edge is imprinted behind my eyes and I can't stop crying as I feel gentle hands - Sol from the feel of the callouses - pull me away.

"I don't even know him," I sob into Sol's chest, and I catch a brief image of Sol looking down at my in concern from Jereth. "I don't even know him, but I can't stand to see him dead!"

Sol gently soothes me, and eventually I calm down enough for dinner - hash browns and salad, my favorite, and the dessert of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies after.

I feel distant, as if I'm wrapped in a veil away from the world and unaffected by it. Presents were opened before the ceremony, so once dinner is done, Jereth and I brush out teeth and go to bed.

I cling to Jereth that night in bed, but he says nothing, instead pulling me closer so he can wrap his arms around me comfortably, letting me grip his wrist like I was afraid he was going to disappear between one moment and the next.

* * *

 _August 21, 1984, Sayer House, Britain_

 _Jereth_

I stare at the person lying there dead on the marble, because I do recognize him. The images had been drifting in my mind for as long as I could remember, unclear and foggy like dreams, but Torin's worst fear ripped that veil away from one of them, and I find that I can't move. The image superimposes itself over the scene before me,, my brother's small pale form replaced by a teenager's with black hair, but their pose is the same.

I stay silent the rest of the day, and when Torin clings to me, I pull him closer, the words that accompany the painting echoing through my head.

 _"This is a portrait of Vanyel Ashkevron, known as the Last Herald-Mage with his dead beloved Tylendel Frelennye, painted by one of his friends. It depicts him crying over his beloved before he killed himself."_

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Tearing Off the Veil**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Tearing Off the Veil**

 _October 4, 1984, Foster House, Surrey, Britain_

I frown as I clutch the dog tags around my neck, the only things I had to remind me of my parents. I take a deep breath and let it go as I contemplate the images that had just drifted across the back of me eye lids. The frantic desperation, overwhelming grief, and ohgodsohgodshecan'tbegonepleasenoohgodsohgods slowly fades as I try to wipe the tears off my face. The foster parent I have now is a war veteran, and the first to keep me for more than a month. Since I can remember there's been a litany of _His eyes are so old, it's like he's my grandfather. He's sweet, but there's something about him. If I didn't know better I would have thought that he had been through a war._ , but when the old man catches me staring into nothing, he only puts a blanket over my shoulders and sits next to me.

I don't know what war he fought in, but he's a Hindu from India, and just the right age to have fought during the Second World War. I catch him staring into space sometimes, and simply drape a blanket over his shoulders like he did for me. Sometimes he asks me what I see, and sometimes I tell him.

These memories - images - I get aren't of the wars exactly, but I remember playing music for hours on end, trying to - to heal someone, to make them feel better. I remember playing at war meetings so many times that when I suggested something, it was taken into consideration. I remember hiding in a small house because I couldn't control my magic, couldn't stop protecting myself so that my only link was someone . . . someone I can't remember, someone I know I knew as well as I knew myself. I remember begging in the streets, and looking up spells. And I remember love. Quick and bright, and so warm that there are times I can't believe I'm still alive because it's not there anymore. One face with one name with one stupidly self sacrificial personality, who did everything he could for me.

My breath shakes as I force myself to let go of my dog tags reading Teagan Davis, and I force my eyes closed. I breathe deeply and let sleep wash over me, hoping for a reprieve from the nightmares of _"Another outpost hit! We've lost a hundred men!"_

* * *

 _October 5, 1984, Sayer house, Britain_

The flashes of oddness have been coming more and more recently, enough for me to piece together some semblance of a story. I love two people I've never met because of them, and I can understand my father's empty gaze when I find him with a thousand yard stare. But most of the time there's fighting. Never ending, always wearing, scars and collapsing because I haven't slept for a week. There's a woman who's a horse most of the time, who's always there supporting me, and there's magic much stronger than anything I've seen. There's a boy, who used to be a woman and a horse, who makes me think of my cousin Lela.

And I can remember channeling so much magic at once, not even burning, simply just being no longer alive I used to much magic. I shied away from magic for weeks after that memory surfaced. I can tell that everyone's worried for me as I cling to them, refusing to let Jareth out of my sight, and I think that Leo knows exactly what's happening, because whenever Dad looks ready to ask me what's happening, Leo takes him aside and talks to him.

Jareth doesn't complain about my clingyness. If anything, he's clung to me just as strong, something dark in his gaze when ever anyone tries to suggest that we should part. I don't know what it was, but tonight's dreams were particularly bad, not sleeping for weeks and using more an more energy to keep awake and aware enough to command, my reserves drained dry, and the nodes around me filled to the brim with magic from the blood that seeped into the soil. Not eating food for nearly as long because there wasn't enough to go around, and I could keep myself going for far longer without than my men, and my one portion means they can go on that much longer.

I'm sitting on Jareth's bed and watching the sunrise when suddenly something almost like a veil that had been clouding my mind without my realizing it is torn away and all I can do is sit there and gasp as the patterns that had lain over the thin veil like a shaky tracing were washed away. Jareth is awake immediately, his hands on my shoulders as he stares in into my eyes, and I can see the blue and tears as I cry.

"Torin?" he asks as I gasp my tears. He searches my eyes for a moment before hesitantly speaking again. "Vanyel?"

A fresh wave of tears burst out and Jereth pulls me close, his eyes closed as he gently rocks me. "It's alright. Don't worry, it's alright."

I can't stop sobbing because I remember _dying and almost dying and Stef. Oh gods, 'Lendel - Stef._

* * *

 _October 5, 1984, Foster House, Surrey, Britain_

I wake up crying with a name on my lips and _Oh gods, Vanyel-ashke. Oh gods._

The old man is asleep in his room as I creep down stairs, tears running down my cheeks and make myself a cup of tea. I know I have school today but I can't stop crying as I remember everything. I can remember being past it all, but right now everything about them _hurts_ like it's just happened, and I can feel loosing Van, and loosing Staven, and loosing Gala, _gods_.

The old man finds me trembling at the kitchen table staring into nothing with the cold tea in my hand. He doesn't say anything to me, but after he called me in sick, he sat down next to me on the booth seat and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I spend that day and the next just crying and drinking whatever was put into my hands. The tears tapered off, leaving me empty, but determined, and I manage a smile when the old man asks if I would be willing to share my bedroom with another foster kid. I want some with me so I can listen to them breathe, so I can tell myself I'm not alone.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Moving On**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Moving On**

 _October 7, 1984, Sayer house, Britain_

I wake up with a shuttering breath, take another one, and pull myself together. I've spent the last two days in mourning, but I've lost him before, and now that the memories are no longer so fresh in my mind, I can remember that. I take another deep breath and blink, aware of my eyes moving, but unable to see anything.

I sink into myself and dance carefully around the walls of my mind. I mend the tears and breaks I can see coming, and ease the stress on them from the onslaught of feelings. They aren't as strong as they should be, and I build them again, adding layer and layer so that I no longer catch any thought that's particularly strong.

I pull myself together piece by piece like I had to before, ground and center. I bring shields up around all of my mind, bring them up until all that's within them is me, and anything that's too deep for me to cut off, then I slowly let them down one by one. First the shield between Jareth and I falls, and instantly a surge of reassurance floods into me, and I draw strength from it.

Then I open myself to other bonds not quite as deep, and send out a tentative query. I flinch back when all that meets me is and echoing emptiness, and I quickly set shields back over that bond.

Then I begin the hard task, taking down the many layers of shields hiding me from the world one at a time, and setting them up properly. First comes one set at fifty meters, and each one progressively closer, shutting out more and more until I'm once again alone in my mind. The last is like and elastic band hiding just within my skin, blocking all thoughts and bonds.

I slowly let the bond with Jareth reopen, and it's like a fist unclenching. A wave of reassurance flows along it immediately, and I almost flinch back from the warmth before the flow decreases, and I can feel warm arms wrap around me instead.

 _:Vanyel?:_

Jareth's voice comes brightly and confidently, affection dancing like lightning.

 _:I'm Torin as well, and more so.:_

 _:It's part of a greater whole,:_ Jareth retorts as I let my head rest on his shoulder. _:I'm not you, but I've seen your life, and I'm no longer the child I once was. I know you.:_

 _:And I know you now,:_ I reply.

"Yes, but I know something you don't know," Jereth's tone takes on a teasing hint as he pulls away from me.

"What?" I ask, feeling better than I have in two days.

"Well, alsh'sh'el," the word rolls off Jareth's tongue as if he's said it a thousand times before. "You'll just have to wait until you're old enough."

* * *

 _October 7, 1984, Foster House, Surrey, Britain_

I wake up, take a deep breath, and pull my shields together once again. I take another breath and carefully probe at the sore area where GalaMedren should be, and wince when only emptiness meets my calls.

I carefully rebuild the hastily thrown up shields on at a time, and sigh with the last one as it snaps into place just beneath my skin, blocking out the thoughts of the bird singing outside my window.

Then I roll out of bed and onto me feet, yawning before I walk over to my dresser and change into a fresh set of clothes. Today's a Sunday, so I don't have any school, but I remember Kunala's comments about sharing a room so I double check to make sure that all of my clothes are neat in the dresser, or in the laundry hamper, that my suitcase is sitting in the closet, and that the one ratty stuffed cat I've kept with me is tucked in on my neatly made bed before I quietly go down the stairs.

Kunala smiles at me, and spoons me some oatmeal out of the pot sitting on the stove. I put some berries in it before I start to eat. Kunala gently asks me some questions, but he leaves me alone for he most part and we sit together comfortably.

A car pulls up at ten, and as Kunala goes out to greet whoever's coming, I climb back up to my room to sit at the window.

I watch as a huddled child, dressed in hideous clothes five sizes too big, follows Kunala back inside along with a man dressed in smart blues. I frown as he draws closer, and have to restrain myself from running out of the house to help the child, because all I can feel is blood covering the boy like a cloak.

I move from my room and watch, hidden in the shadows at the top if the staircase, as the three people come into the house. The boy huddles in his baggy clothing and inches away from the two adults towards the stairs. I watch as he practically shrinks in on himself whenever the man or Kunala look at him, but when he thinks no one is paying attention, he looks around at the brightly decorated front hall that they were standing in, particularly fascinated by the various images of Hindu gods.

Kunala calls for me after a while, and I come down slowly and greet the man in blue.

"Hello Rowan," the man says gently to me, crouching so he's eye level with me. "How have you liked being with Mr. Misra?"

"He's nice," I say, stepping closer to Kunala as the man smiles and stands.

"Well then, you should be fine," the man says as I wind a fist in Kunala's pants and look at the boy. He's still looking around, but then he notices my gaze and immediately tries to make himself look smaller again. Kunala leaves with the man to get the boys belongings, forcing me to let go of Kunala's leg. I move cautiously towards the boy, watching the blood magic on his forehead even though its making me feel sick, and straining my eyes.

"Hello, I'm Rowan Davis," I say. "Who are you?"

"Harry," the boy says hesitantly. "I'm Harry Potter."

* * *

 **Chapter 9: New Years**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: New Years**

 _January 1, 1985, Sayer Manor, Britain_

I smile as I listen Jereth tear into the wrapping paper of his presents. It's nice to know that despite his protests, he's not entirely grown up. A smile tugs at my lips as I remember my glimpse of the presents piled beneath the tree. It's not like he's going to run out of presents any time soon, not with four sets of adults, Dad, Leo, and a grand aunt ready and willing to give presents. I turn to my presents as a muted flash of joy comes from his side of the bond.

In short order, I reveal a book ( _with private audio!_ according to the indented letters on the cover) on Faeri Magic from Grand-aunt Bailey, a plain ring strung on a cord as a necklace from Great-grandma Jean, and a pair of fuzzy socks stuffed with hard candy from Great-grandpa Kurt. Uncle Kaiden and Aunt Iris get me a set of books on what wizards know of the world before history (something a bit advanced for my supposed age, but you won't find me complaining), from Grand-uncle Tristan and Grand-aunt Islode comes a small toy that would move away from me and make noise once it was activated, and from Grandpa Mark and Grandma Karol I get a child sized piano that is supposed to teach me how to play ( _shrinks to a key chain, and will grow with your child!_ according to the label). I get a scrap book filled with photos of Mum from Dad, and a simple, but serviceable dagger the no one seems to see from Leo.

 _:Torin,:_ Jereth calls, and I let the bond open more, so I can see Jereth holding a sheathed dagger away from his body like its a snake that will turn and bite him at any moment. _:What do I do with it? It's from Leo.:_

 _:Don't worry,:_ I reassure him, sending him my impression of the dagger Leo had sent me, making him glance up to where I'm sitting. _:I got one too. Just tie it to your belt and leave it there. He probably thinks you'll need it at some point, and it's a good back up.:_

 _:Alright,:_ Jereth says, pulling away from the bond. I smile slightly before I turn back to the gifts I'd gotten and pile them into my New Years bag. I just sit there listening to the adults talk and linger over their presents. Lucinda, our three year old cousin from Uncle Kaiden and Aunt Iris comes up to me curiously, and I smile slightly as she sits down in front of me and starts poking at me curiously.

* * *

 _January 1, 1985, Lionsmane Manor, Britain_

"Sol," Grandpa greets Dad warmly as he opens the door before he turns to call behind him; "The Sayers are here!"

I clutch Jereth's hand tightly as we enter the home of our mother's parents. Before I can say anything though, someone slams into me and bowls me over, breaking my grip on Jereth's hand and thoughts bombard my mind as babbling assaults my ears. " _-you're alright, and Gods Vanyel, why did I let you do that, from now on no more heroic sacrifices, no more wars, no more kings, no more fighting so much you're on a hair-trigger-_ "

"Yfandes?" I ask, startled by the sudden out pouring on Valdemaran.

"Lela!" a woman exclaims, and suddenly the weight that had been pinning me to the ground is gone. "I told you, no jumping on people."

"Lemme go!" Lela - Yfandes exclaims as I push myself into a sitting position, and someone goes omph before arms are wrapped around me rather strongly once again.

"Yfandes?" I ask again, reaching out with hesitant hands to hug the girl with he arms around me. " _What are you doing? You remember?_ "

"Van," Jereh says before Yfandes can say anything. " _Come on, let's not worry our parents._ "

I can feel Yfandes's head snap towards Jereth as her arms tighten. "Jereth?"

" _Van, why does he know how to speak Valdemaran?_ " she asks in Tayledras.

" _Because I watch his life as it came back to him, and I saw it coming through the cracks before the veil was swept away,_ " Jereth says before I can speak, and I twitch, pushing my way out of Yfandes's arms.

" _I can speak for myself, thank you very much,_ " I tell them both snippily. Then I turn to face Dad and Grandpa, who're probably looking down at the confrontational kids. "Can we go play in the garden?"

"Sure," Dad says, amused by my no nonsense question. I give him and Grandpa a short nod before I fumble around and grab Yfandes and Jereth's collars and break them away from what ever they were doing and I force them to walk, or be dragged away.

Leo, who had come in as a quiet shadow behind, Dad ghosts along behind us, and I can hear Gradnpa and Dad start talking to each other as we leave the room. I manage not to crash into anything by virtue of my thin soled shoes letting me tell where the carpet is and isn't, but I don't let go of Yfandes or Jereth's collars until we arrive in some warm room.

" _Talk,_ " I demand, feeling around for a chair, then collapsing into it. " _Jereth you first, you know more._ "

"Torin-"

" _Talk,_ " I snap, rubbing my temples in an effort to soothe my headache. Then I slowly start to reach out as I half listen to Jereth tell Yfandes what he remembers - the little flashes of knowledge and images, then finally watching my memories as they washed over me. I reach out to Yfandes, and this time there's an answer, and immediate warmth that fills a hollow space within me that I had realized was aching. The echoing emptiness is still there when I search for minds I've known, but there's less of it now, and I do the metaphorical equivalent of a blink as I realize that with Yfandes here, my shields are weaving themselves tighter with something filling the gaps I hadn't even been aware I was leaving for her.

The bond isn't equivalent to that of a Companion and their chosen, Yfandes is no longer a companion, but - _:Yfandes?:_

 _:Yes?:_

 _:I'm older than you now.:_

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Of Panic and Names**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Of Panic and Names**

 _March 8, 1985, Old Ivy Church, Brookwood, Britain_

I smile at Kunala as he looks at Harry.

"You want to change your name?"

"Yeah," Harry says shyly, twisting his fingers in my sleeve. "I know you don't mean to, but all I can think of when ever you say my name is the Dursleys, and I don't want to think about them."

This was a recent development, but one I fully support. Kunala had put his name up for consideration for adopting us, but he hadn't told us until word came that he was to adopt us. He'd moved with us away from Surry soon after, switching houses with an old friend of his, as had soon as it because clear that staying there wasn't good for Harry. Bertie may be a bad comparison, but I can't help but draw the parallels and find myself happy with Kunala.

"Have you though about this?" Kunala finally asks, and Harry nods. "Alright, what do you want your name to be then?"

"I want to be Kiran," Harry says solemnly. "Kiran Kunala Misra."

Kunala looks between Harry and I before he sighs. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you!" Harry says, running up to hug Kunala.

"Yeah, yeah," Kunala says gruffly. "Now let me write that down. Kiran Kunala Misra, right?"

* * *

 _March 9, 1985, Sayer House, Britain_

 _I suppose this means that I_ am _a trouble magnet, and nothing that happens to me will stop that._ I think, as I am woken up by a hand over my mouth to stop me from screaming.

"Now you're going to be a good little boy and come with me quietly, unless you want your throat to get slit," a woman's voice whispers into me ear, making me aware of the cold line across my throat. I don't move, not wanting to tempt her into slicing my throat open, and the woman apparently takes this as acknowledgement because she carefully pulls me out of bed. I can hear someone doing the same thing with Jareth across the room, and I reach out to him.

 _:Jareth,:_ I call gently, my fingers tight around the grip of the knife that Leo had given us for New Years. He sends back a burst of wordless acknowledgment. :Do you have your dagger?:

He sends back an affirmative reply one again, and take a deep breath as suddenly a wand replaces the witch's knife at my throat, and a muttered word does something, but I ignore that. _:Don't use it. I think they'll slit your throat rather than deal with a rebellious prisoner.:_

He sends back another burst of wordless acknowledgement, and which I dare not show any signs on the surface, keeping my face screwed up in a scared expression, but inside I sigh in relief. Then I reach out in another direction.

 _:Leo,:_ I call, throwing a mental connection. _:Leo, we're being kidnapped. Don't come in, they'll slit our throat if you try. Find us, where ever they take us.:_

 _:Torin-:_ Leo starts, but I quickly cut him off as the witch lifts me up and pushes me out the window, where I'm caught by someone on a broom from the feel of it.

 _:Don't. They had a knife at my throat, and now I have a wand at my throat. I'm too small to be able to fight them. Find us when they can't kill us any moment.:_

 _:Alright,:_ Leo says reluctantly. _:Call to me the moment you can.:_

 _:I will,:_ I promise, and I can hear a rustle of fabric before suddenly the wind buffets me as the broom moves forward. I grit my teeth because not only am I entirely out of control here, I wouldn't have been able to control the broom had I been alone on it. I instantly resolve to never get on a broomstick again in my life if I can help it. I can feel the moment we leave the wards I've been within all my life, and there's a deep chuckle from the man carrying me on the broomstick before suddenly I feel as if I'm being pushed through a tube much too small for me, and I can't breathe and there's a pain deep inside me from a place I'm well familiar with hurting because long after all of my other channels had healed under Moondance's magic, this one had been torn open again and again with every gate I was near.

My breath shudders as we're suddenly out and in fresh air once again.

"Mom! I've got two more to hold hostage!" the man holding me calls, and behind me I can hear two loud crack, but my attention is taken up more by the sudden feel of stability, and the subsequent impact as I am thrown onto the earth.

"You didn't even bother to bind him?" a female voice asks from above me as I try to scramble away from the people I can feel, and the man who carried me here laughs again.

"That one's blind. You don't need to worry about him getting away. Don't worry though, we bound the other one."

 _:Jareth,:_ I instantly think, reaching out.

 _:I'm fine Torin. Don't worry. How are you?:_

 _:I'm fine,:_ I reply, only half paying attention to the conversation going on above me. I tun my attention to reaching out for Leo. I reach out and out and out, and I frown as I hit the edge of my range. The urge to cry wells up, and I don't stop the tears as the start of well up. This is part of what I miss the most about Valdemar, our mental network. It was a very rare occasion that I couldn't reach someone. _:Jareth, I can't reach Leo. i told him to leave us alone until I found him again, and I can't reach him.:_

Jareth instantly send out a wave of comfort. _:Don't worry. I'm sure he'll notice before long. He's probably ready to go already, and is just waiting for you. He'll figure out we're gone soon.:_

 _:I hope its soon enough,:_ I reply.

* * *

 **Chapter 11: How to Escape**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: How to Escape**

 _March 9, 1985, Sayer House, Britain_

I pace back and fourth impatiently. I know what Tori said about the knife and wand to his throat, but if he doesn't say something -

I stiffen as once, twice, thrice, something tears through space. I turn and bolt to the boys' room. It's empty, but I ignore it as I reach out for the quickly fading spell and latch onto it. It was unraveling quickly but I held it down and pinned it between two sheets of metaphorical glass. It's a captured gate spell, needing less magic because it doesn't need to be sustained, and I examine it, quickly finding the _there_ it specified.

I turn on the spot and _reach_ for the destination-

 _:Duck!:_

I drop forward in a roll and come up with my wand at a woman's throat -

"Let them go," I say coldly, the fake wand digging into the witch's throat, as I hold a knife across the throat of the wizard in front of me.

The three people in front of me are startled, but before they can do anything, Torin pulls out of the man's grasp and lashes out blindly at the man who had been holding him with the knife I gave him for New Years, catching him across the gut in what will almost certainly prove to be a fatal blow. The other two start forward as I mutter, "Somnium."

The witch falls forward and I don't even bother muttering Somnium again to put the man I'd held at knife point asleep before I drop the useless wand. I point my index finger at the elderly woman, the last kidnapper standing as Jereth had taken care of his own kidnapper, and with a slight flex of my magic she falls to the ground. Torin's head is moving, and I can feel something sweep over me as he drops some of his shields, but after a moment, he straightens.

"There isn't anyone else who will attack us here," he says, bending to plunge the blade of his knife into the man he'd given a gut wound to. I note his wording as the man goes still and he moves over to do the same with the woman Jereth had wounded. Then he wipes the blade on the woman's trousers, sheathes it, and holds his arms out to Jereth, who collapses into them with a sob.

"Hey, hey," he comforts Jereth gently, coxing him to let go of the knife and turning him so he can't see the bodies.

"I'm sorry," Jereth sobs into Torin's shoulder as I silently grab the knife and tuck it into my belt after pausing to wipe it on the woman's trousers.

"You aren't me Jereth," Torin says, gently rubbing his brother's shoulder. "You saw my life, and even lived it enough to pick up some of my experiences, but you didn't live it. You aren't me. And that was your first kill."

Jereth sobs at that, but some of the underlying shame is gone. I start to carefully grab the bits and pieces from the bodies that I can see that will go to waste, before I change my mind and simple vanish the bodies

"Tell me," Torin continues. "What would have happened had you not one that?"

"She could have escaped?" Jereth says, though it sounds more like a question, but Torin nods. I separate the thing we may want from the piles of clothing as wrap them up in one of the shirts. Then I point at the rest, and the neatly fold themselves up ans put themselves into a neat pile.

"That's right. And what would have happened if she escaped?"

"She-she would have kept doing this," Jereth sniffs. "I get that Torin, but I still feel horrible."

"Good," Torin says firmly, pulling back slightly so he could give the impression of meeting Jereth's eyes. "As long as you regret it, you will be fine. If you can kill someone without a reason, without feeling guilty, then it's bad. But that woman, she would have hurt others. She probably has hurt others. And she was threatening to kill you. Do feel bad because she was a person, but don't blame yourself entirely."

"Thanks Torin," Jereth says, taking a shaky breath. "Alright."

He turns, flinching slightly at the sight of the pile of folded clothes at the folded shirt I'm holding as I wait patiently. His eyes don't go near the dark spots on the ground under to moon's light.

"Do you know where we are?" Torin asks as he turns to face me. "I couldn't reach you."

I frown slightly and tilt my head back. The moon is in the same place as it was in England, and there are the mountains around us -"We're in the Pyrenees mountains."

"You mean France?" Torin asks after a moment as I bend down to lift the folded clothes off the ground, and I nod.

"Alright you two, come here and give me a hug," I say, and am treated to two almost identical looks of bewilderment. Torin even managed to get the direction right. "I can't get you back home if you're over there, and I need you to hang tight so you don't get thrown off."

"You should have just said so in the first place," Torin grumbles. He walks over to me and manages to find an arm before something sifts, and he wraps his arms around me confidently.

"Alright, here I -

The blackness consumes us for a moment.

"- go," I say as the world is suddenly back.

"Bastard," is all Torin has time to say as he lets go of me and turns before he vomits.

"Torin!" Jereth cries, quickly forgetting his concern over his brother's sickness. I smile slightly as I set the clothes on the garden table for the elves.

"I'm fine, Jereth," Torin says as he straightens somewhat. "It's just Gateing too much too soon."

"Oh," Jereth says, looking somewhat embarrassed. Then he gets a stubborn look. "Still, let me help you."

I watch in amusement as Jereth somehow manages to pick Torin up. He staggers off to their bedroom, and manages to get Torin into the bathroom. Torin washes the acid out of his mouth before he manages to stumble his way to his bed.

"Wait till we tell Dad!?" Jereth says as I shut the door, and I frown. Then I shrug. Later.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Under the Old Oak Trees**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Under the Old Oak Trees**

 _March 10, 1985, Kidnapper's House, France_

I drop my close up shields them moment the dizziness of apparation fades.

"Well?" Leo asks me as I regain my bearings, and I catch a glimpse of my pale face from his eyes before I turn from his mind and reach out even farther.

"They're still in the same place they were in yesterday," I confirm, and he nods.

"Should I go alone, or . . . ?" Leo asks, and I hesitate for a moment, contemplating the idea that had been growing in my mind.

"I'll come, just give me a moment," I say. "There's something I want to try first."

I sense Leo's agreement more than I feel it as I retreat into my mind and weave a careful net of magic around myself. I consider it carefully for a moment, thinking about how easily it can go wrong, before I shrug mentally and allow the magic to "settle" around my form, changing it. I bring myself out of the trance with my eyes still closed, almost unwilling to see if the magic had really worked, before I let my eyes blink open.

"Ah!" I cry, my eyes flying shut again and scrunching up, and I scowl.

"That's really impressive," Leo remarks, his hands feeling smaller on my shoulders as he steadies me.

"I thought it would help if I could see," I hiss through gritted teeth. "I forgot what it was like. The sun - it's so bright."

"Here," Leo says, and there's a pause as one of his hands leave my shoulder before he slides a pair of -

"Glasses? Why are you giving me glasses?" I ask, my hand reaching up to touch them.

"They're sunglasses, they'll block some of the light," Leo says, stepping back. "Try again now."

I carefully let my eyes open a little, then let them open fully when the light doesn't hurt.

"Oh," I say, blinking as I look around me. Even with the sunglasses, the world around me is filled with color. I have memories of seeing, and I've used other people's sight, but colors weren't as intense as they seem now, and a soft smile touches my lips. "Thank you, Leo."

"Of course," Leo replies, his golden eyes flicking from mine as he steps back. "Are you ready, Vanyel?"

I'm only half surprised that Leo knows me name. His magic does not come from the earth, instead welling from the planes that the Karsites summoned demons from so long ago. It's entirely possible that Leo was alive back then. "I'm ready."

My shields are still down, and the frightened thoughts of the people in the shack reach me with ease now, making me wince. I spare a moment of thought on ethics before I send out a gentle wave of calm that will erode the frantic thoughts of the people within the shack. I follow behind Leo as he cautiously pushes the door open, magic swirling at my finger tips. I stumble slightly over the doorstep, and frown at myself as I send another wave of calm to the people at the sudden rise of their frantic thoughts. I nod to Leo when the people are calmer, and the two of us spend a couple of minute searching the room, but it's clear that there's noting there.

If I hadn't know of the people here, I would have just thought this was another of the old pureblood families that made just enough to support themselves. It isn't until I close my eyes that I manage to sense the magic hiding the entrance to the basement, hidden under a couple of layers of glamours and situated right in front of the toilet in the side room.

"I found it," I call softly to Leo, and he turns from examining the tarnished silver in the cabinet next to the multi purpose table, most likely some old family dishes.

"Thank Vkandis," he says, closing the cabinet and walking towards me. "It's too quiet here."

"I know," I murmur in reply before I lean forward to tap lightly on the painted monkey. The wall turns silently to reveal a spiral staircase leading down ward.

"You go first," I tell Leo, stepping back. "I'm not entirely used to this body."

"Alright." Leo slides past me, and I shadow him quickly, sending waves of clam to the scared minds almost continuously now as they listen to the stairs shift under our weight. At the bottom of the staircase if a long corridor of packed dirt and doors. We walk to the first door, and I nod when Leo glances at me. Leo pushes the door open slowly, and I wince and quickly focus the waves of calm I'm sending out on the person inside. I only manage to calm them down somewhat, but even that slows their frantic thoughts down as I follow Leo into the room.

"Hey," I say, kneeling down in front of the woman huddle on a pile of straw in the corner of the cell. "It's alright, we won't hurt you."

I coax her out of her cell and into the light, hiding my wince at the numerous injuries covering her body. She lifts her wrists with some prompting so that I can see the rope holding them together, and I cut through it with a single touch, allowing it to fall to the ground.

We spend the rest of the day freeing the people huddled in the cells. Each of them tries to stay as far from Leo as possible, but despite flinching, they do allow me close.

When all of the people are down, Leo creates a Gate to St. Mungo's at the end of the corridor. I hide the pain that comes and gently prompt the people towards all of them are through, Leo closes the gate and I collapse against him.

"Hey, are you alright?" Leo asks gently, helping me slide to the ground. I grumble slightly before I swipe away the curtain of magic I'd been sustaining, and slump abruptly before Leo catches me.

"I'm fine," I mutter, and open my eyes to the familiar darkness once again.

* * *

 _November 10, 1985, Sayer House, Britain_

"What is it?" I ask Sol before I carefully lift my spoon to my mouth. A flash of Jareth's vision shows me another frown.

"Apparently, five years was long enough for mourning," Leo remarks lightly. "You three are being invited to Christmas parties and the like."

"Oh," I murmur, not entirely sure what to say. I don't remember my mother, Monday, but I can emphasize with my father sadness. "What's Christmas?"

There's a pause that makes me look up, before Sol laughs. "Christmas is a religious celebration for the birth of the son of a god. It's one of the muggle's major religions, so it's celebrated almost everywhere."

"Do wizards celebrate it as well?" I ask, eating another spoon of oatmeal.

"Not really," Leo replies. "Wizards celebrate a large variety of different things around this time, and because of that, muggleborns are in the majority. So, we call this time of year Christmas."

"Alright," I say.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Time Then Time Again**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Time Then Time Again**

 _December 21, 1985, Moonrise Manor, Britain_

I want to wrinkle my nose as I feel around the room, brushing minds lightly to get a feel for people. Almost everyone here is related to me if you go back a few generations and back down the family tree, and many of them were married. I sigh as I turn my attention back to the utterly boring conversation going on around me. I had been pushed into the corner with the rest of the children after the children's dance at the beginning. Everyone from Keziah Eldcohen to my Lucinda and Lela (Y'fandes) are here, and the conversation is lacking as they argue over Quidditch.

A familiar mind sweeps along, and I move my head to face him. "Bored?"

"Utterly," I murmur, taking the hand extended to me. "Jareth's not exactly normal, so I've forgotten that normal children, while utterly beautiful and amazing, can also be very boring when absorbed in arguments."

The song ends as Leo pulls me out onto the dance floor. The next song starts, and after four beats, I step off in time with Leo into one of the old dances I had learned as heir to the estate a life time ago. I know the steps by heart, having found a simple joy in dancing after living with the Tayledras for the first time. The music is different, but the beat is the same, and I step with an ease not present in my steps normally as I trust Leo not to let me run into anyone. We end with matching bows to the sound of applause. I blink against the darkness as I realize that the two of us are alone in the middle of the room.

"Another dance, Lord Ashkevron?" Leo asks as we stand from out bows, once again clasping hands.

"Now, now," I shake my head. "You know that is not I title I ever bore."

"Ah, but were Heralds not lords in their own right?" Leo asks rhetorically. "Are you having fun yet?"

"You know what?" I say as the next song begins. "I am."

* * *

 _December 25, 1985, Old Ivy Church, Brookwood, Britain_

"Presents!" Kiran laughs as he bounces on my bed, and I smile sleepily at him, happy at the light in his eyes.

"Come on down you two," Kunala calls, and Kiran pulls me out of bed - not that I struggle - and down the stairs to the tree that Kunala had set up in the beginning of December. We open the present, and I smile as I watch Kiran. This is his second Christmas with us, but he's still just as awed by the presentss we gave him as he had been on his first Christmas with us.

* * *

 _June 21, 1986, Moonrise Manor, Britain_

I blink blindly at the small girl before me. There's something odd about her mind that takes me a moment to recognize.

"Hello," she says, her mind reaching for mine much in the same way 'Fandes's does. "You must be the Shadow Stalker."

"Must I?" I ask, almost amused at the mention of the title given to me years ago.

"Yes," the girl says solemnly, the feeling echoed through the link I'd grabbed. "That's what the clouds tell me."

 _The clouds . . . vrondi?_

"Do you mean the clouds with blue eyes?" I ask, and there's a rush of relief across the bond even as the girl replies positively.

"They tell me you once were taller, and that you gave them an amazing game to play," she adds, and I smile at her.

 _Uncontrollable magesight. It's a bit early for gifts, but she's old enough that it's believable, unlike my awakening of mindspeach at birth._

"Well, tell the vrondi I said hello then," I tell her with a smile.

"Vrondi?" she asks, curiosity backing the feeling.

"Yes, that's what the blue-eyed clouds are called," I say with a slight smile.

"Oh! Thank you!" she says.

"So, what's your name?"

"I'm Luna. Luna Lovegood."

* * *

 _December 25, 1986, Old Ivy Church, Brookwood, Britain_

I manage to smile at Kiran as he opens his presents with a quiet contentment that contrasts with the manic excitement he had shown last year. Something had been bugging me lately, and I can't shake the disquiet that falls over me when ever I look at Kiran now. There's a sense of wrong that I can't shake, and on top of that, my magesight has taken to overwhelming me at random moments, reminding me uncomfortably of when I had been unable to control the magegift itself. I blink, and suddenly the world is painted in the varying shades of light that portray the energy.

"Rowan?" Kiran asks, making me look up. I have to bite back a gasp as I realize what had been unnerving me. There's a thick miasma of blood magic is over Kiran's forehead, almost going down to his eyes. "Are you alright?"

I blink and the magesight is gone as quickly as it had come, but I can't keep my eyes from Kiran's forehead. "I'm fine."

"Really?" Kiran asks, his disbelief obvious. I shake myself and tear my eyes away.

"Really."

* * *

 _March 3, 1987, Old Ivy Church, Brookwood, Britain_

I glance up at Kiran and wince as he catches me again.

"Can you just tell me what's wrong already?" he asks, his voice halfway between calm and angry.

"I-"

"Tell me," he insists. "I'm sick and tired you you dodging the subject!"

"There's a large blob of foul magic that clings to your forehead," I blurt out, adverting my eyes and flinching back. We haven't discussed magic, but after so many bouts of uncontrolled magic from Harry, we wouldn't deny that it exists.

"What," Harry says, perfectly calm. I look up to see his face slowly turning panicked as he sits down on the chair. "Get it out. Get it out!"

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Out With the Old**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Out With the Old**

 _March 4, 1987, Old Ivy Church, Brookwood, Britain_

The situation reminds me of Falconsbane - of Leareth - and of Van's efforts to kill him. And quite honestly, I wish that I had someone here other than Kiran, like Need. Need would be great for trying this again!

But what I have is five years of personal experience, and half a millennium of an odd, half-removed practice. Kiran is quiet, his breath shaky as I pace around him. I'm not going to kill Kiran, I don't really feel like I can, but I still have to make it seem like he isn't a good place to store your soul or whoever it is won't leave. Finally, I tell him to lay down.

"Close your eyes and think about math. What's 7 minus 5? Don't tell me, just think it."

I try to distract him as I slowly build a layer between him and his mind. The soul takes notice of this, uncoiling from its spot as I wall Kiran away from his pain. When Kiran can't access his body anymore, the soul strikes out, weaving itself through Kiran's mind and taking control. But I'm not done yet. Now that Kiran can't feel it, I crack down with vengeance.

It takes the soul - as occupied by its takeover of Kiran's mind as it is - a moment to notice then pain. Then it hisses in pain and surprise, pulling itself back from every pace in Kiran's mind, uncaring of the damage it caused, and gathered itself into a bundle to be yanked away from Kiran like Falconsbane had been yanked from Andesha. Only, I'm ready from his, and I reach out with fiery claws to tear the soul into pieces and burn every bit of it. When I'm done, all that's left is ashes, and I release my control over Kiran's body. He gasps and his heart flutters wildly, but the hold was not long enough to do damage, and he quickly begins to breathe normally.

His mind is another matter though, and now I extend my focus there, walking the pathways and healing every gaping wound and scar I can find. The task is much easier than it would have been if the had been Kiran's soul that caused these wounds, and I am grateful for that small mercy. Then I turn to the ashes. I remember Andesha's struggle with what Falconsbane left behind, but as much as I want to I can't just erase the ashes. So I take the ashes and scatter them.

I pull out of Kiran's mind slowly, and check his body once more. He's asleep, a deep sleep, but nothing bad. I can't tear down the wall that blocks Kiran away from his mind. He is asleep with his body, and his soul flows out of from behind the wall to fill the expanse of his mind like feet in an old pair of shoes.

I draw myself back out and away from Kiran, and I look down to see if there's anything left.

For a moment I want to gasp because where there had been foul black magic, there are now strands of green, growing before my eyes and knitting together.

* * *

 _June 21, 1988, Moonrise Manor, Britain_

"I swear, you are amazing now," I say, staring at Luna through Jareth's eyes. Lela is standing beside me, staring in what could be considered awe. It took me forever to figure out exactly who she was.

"Why thank you," Medren replies, giving us a curtsy. Her dress, a duplicate of one my mother's dresses, matches exactly none of the various styles that the wizards utilize, but it somehow works perfectly on her. "It's quite fun actually. No one pays attention to what I'm saying so long as I mention one of the creatures that Father made up every once in a while."

"Oh! What creatures are those?" Jareth asks enthusiastically, making Luna laugh.

"Well, there's the Heliopaths - they're beings made of fire . . ."

* * *

 _August 12, 1990, Sayer House, Britain_

"Torin! Torin where are you?" Dad calls, and I quickly make my way through the hallway towards his voice. "There you are!"

He sounds relieved before he carefully pushes someone - Luna - forward. "Torin, I need you to take care of her, alright? There's been an accident."

"I will," I promise, and he pats my head before he turn and gets into the floo. "St. Mungo's!"

"Luna, what happened?" I ask, pushing her back and looking at where I guess her eyes are. She smalls charred, and there's a hint of the foul scent of a potion. I reach for her mentally when she doesn't reply, and get a sense of shock from her. "Luna?"

"Mom died." She's still in my arms, and she feels cold. "Mom died, and I was right there. Why didn't I do anything?"

 _Pandora's dead?_

"Hey, you smell a little charred," I note, keeping my shock out of my voice as I tug her sleeve lightly, bringing her towards the bathroom. "How about you take a bath right now?"

"Mom's dead," she just repeats. I turn the bath on, and awkwardly help he out of her clothes, leaving her underwear on because _ew_ , and have her step into the bath tub and sit down. She doesn't start shivering until I start pouring water over her head, and she just sits there as I wash her hair. When I'm done washing her, I pull the plug and help her gently out of the tub and into a towel.

"Hey," I say, snapping under her nose.

"Mom's dead."

"I know. But can you dry yourself off for me?"

" . . . yes."

She dries herself off, and puts on the clothing that I hand her from the pile that she'd left behind when she came to visit.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Mom's dead. She - It's all my fault."

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Chapter 15**

* * *

I'm putting this on hiatus so I can concentrate on fewer stories. I'm sorry.

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Chapter 16**

* * *

Hi. This is abandoned, and will go to my Dribbles story tomorrow. I apologize.


	2. Fire Scars:Harry Potter

Title: **Fire Scars**  
Category: Books » Harry Potter  
Author: Morgan K'Treva  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Drama/Adventure  
Published: 10-31-14, Updated: 11-05-16  
Chapters: 17, Words: 34,845

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

I try to be as still as possible as Madame Pomphrey hustles the newcomer, an expert on burns who worked in a dragon reserve over. The man examines the burns, tutting slightly as he takes of the bandages. I flinch slightly as the bandages tear at the raw flesh, before sighing as something cool starts to cover them, slowly taking away the heat of the burn. As if from a distance, I can hear him say that the salve would need to be reapplied twice a day, and while it wouldn't heal the burns, it would protect them from getting infected. He says something about how some of the burns were third degree, and how I am lucky that the burns on my face are mostly second degree.

Then blessed darkness comes, letting me sleep for the first time in a week, when even dreamless sleep had failed to keep the dreams away.

* * *

I come to to the feeling of pacing and a voice saying, " . . . he shoulds have listened to Dobby, yes he shoulds."

I open my right eye, carefully keeping my left eye closed to keep from moving burned skin and I groan slightly as I see the blurry room beyond me. The muttering pauses before something scrambles frantically and the surviving half of my glasses are carefully slid onto my face, bringing a small elf into focus. "Is Mr. Harry Potter sir alright?"

"You're that elf . . . Dobby right?" I ask, blinking slowly. "Could I take you up on your offer now?"

There's a slight sob, and I watch as the elf frantically he buries his face on his pillow case before looking up with shining eyes.

"That was all Dobby has ever wanted," the elf says. "Now, does Mr. Harry Potter sir know where he wants to go?"

"Some where I can heal - and research schools," I say slowly, and Dobby nods. "And I need the recipe for the salve the dragon trainer's healer put on me."

"Yes Harry Potter sir," the elf says, looking thoughtful. "Dobby shall take you to the Americas then."

"You would know more than me," I say, letting my head fall back.

"Thank yous Mr. Harry Potter sir," the elf says, carefully taking the half of my glasses off.

* * *

My dream that night is an odd one, with glimpses of hair in a shade of ruby, that even though it couldn't be natural, just seemed to be so, and flashes of amber skin as fingers gently traced the slight ridges and indents left my the burns with a coolness that seemed to gently cool the burning sensation. Almost at the edge of my hearing, a soothing melody was hummed by soft tenor.

* * *

When I wake up, it's to the sound of the ocean, and I slowly open my eye, unsure what to expect, and still wary of opening my left eye. Of course all I can see is a blurred mess, but before I can do anything, there's a pop and my half glasses are slid on, revealing two house elves, Dobby and another about the same size who is wearing a dress that is obviously hand made.

"Mr. Harry Potter sir," the two chorus, Dobby bowing and the other curtsying. "This is Ada sir, and she be looking for a master."

The other elf steps forwards shyly and curtseys again. I look between the two of them again before I speak. "Wait, you want me to be her master?"

The two of them nod and I look at them a little fearfully. "I don't want to be a master."

"Not master then," Dobby says firmly. "Friend."

"Friend," Ada says, holding out her hand, and I hesitantly shake it.

"Friend."

* * *

Ada stays and does all of the housework, as well as the spreading of my burn ointment, and some how gettting me information, since Dobby can only come occasionally due to his duties as one of the Malfoy's elves. As my skin starts to heal, I start exercising my body, careful not to tear the new skin, and falling into deep sleeps where I continue to have dreams of the ruby red hair and the amber skin, with fingers cooling the skin and numbing the pain, as the quiet song is hummed.

As it turns out, Ada had been looking for a new master because her area of experience was healing, rather than one of the normal house elf professions of cooking, cleaning, accounting, gardening, be a personal servant, or head of the house elves. Her old master had kept her around for his children's childhood, but after he had sent his children off to school, he gently told her that he didn't need her anymore because the children were gone most of the year, and even then, he thought they were old enough to go to St. Mungo's now.

Then he'd gently handed her the small, nice dress that his children had made, and told her to go find herself a good master or mistress or friend who would keep her as long they lived. Ada, who had been crying, nodded, and after washing herself and putting the nice dress on, she had run to find Dobby, who had a reputation among the elves for finding good masters, mistresses, and friends. She'd waited patiently for Dobby until he had brought her to me.

When I ask her what she thinks of me she takes on a thoughtful look.

"Yous be a good friend. Ada feels good strong calluses, but like elves, so when yous can, yous will help Ada, or so Ada thinks," she proclaims before looking down shyly. I laugh and assure her that that is exactly what will happen.

And so, under Ada's loving care, the burns had heal much quicker than Madame Pomphrey had predicted. Ada tells me that that this is because "Madame specializes in magic, like most magic healers. Is why Magics do get scars, dey go to healers, not doctors." She'd sniffed. "Ada be healer and doctor, so Ada cures best."

Over the month I've been here, I researched schools around the world, looking for one that suited me, and while I found many that I like better that Hogwarts (Most of the schools out of Europe, except for the Greek and Italy schools, contacted magicals at five and had a day school system where they learned both muggle and Magical subjects, before having the choice to continue day schooling or to be sent off to boarding school at eleven, where they continued that education), most of them just didn't fit me. The only one I found that did, was more magic based than the others, and was more of a system of three schools, whit mounting levels of Darwinism, that were collectively called Benal Schools.

Ada had looked at the pamphlet for a short moment before nodding. "Is good. Is near."

* * *

So after that I'd started looking up ways to disguise myself permanently. Most of the books I looked at were useless in that aspect because many governments had forbidden it because of how criminals would use it, but there was one really old book that was very useful, in addition to telling me something particular.

Transfiguration and curses are permanent, creating a permanent change in the rune matrix they are cast upon, charms and jinxes only last as long as their rune matrix has power, and potions, while they can be permanent, are usually made just to last a certain length of time.

That was the information summed up by the introduction, and then the rest was kind of like a computer in the way it was arranged. If you were just casually reading it, you could just read through, and it was arranged into Transfiguration, Charms, Permanent Potions, and Timed potions. Within each section, it was arranged by hair, hair length, eyes, skin color, scars, face shape, body shape, and gender.

If you were looking to get a specific result, you could tap the front page of the information section with your result in mind, and the next page would show the potions way and the charms or transfiguration way. You could also look at a list of possible changes in each section. When Ada had found me looking at the scars section she had sat next to me and read through the section on third degree scars with me. When we were done, she had hmmed and assessed me with sharp eyes.

"Harry Friend want to do?" she had asked, eyes sharp, and I hesitate.

"Would you be able to keep the scaring from restricting my movements or vision if I don't?" I ask finally, and Ada nods.

"Then no, I don't want to do it," I say firmly.

"Sure?"

"Yeah," I say. "Now why don't you help me, I'm trying decide what I'll look like after this."

Ada sat next to me, her eyes scanning the lists of possible changes (I'd asked for all of them.) before she quickly tapped a couple of them and the page dissolved, melting so that hair color was on top with tabs sticking out labeled with each of the things Ada had tapped. She'd scanned the list and nodded before turning back to me. "Harry Friend try temporary first, and see how you like. Show Ada when done, yes?"

"May I stand?" I ask, and watch as she stares at me for a moment before speaking.

"Only to get Ada. No helping."

She then turned and walked away, leaving me to the book. I look the book over, and take the shortest version of the charms (lasting six hours) and go over them once in my head, using the trick that Ada had taught me when I'd had trouble with a spell and thinking about what was going to happen. Not necessarily _why_ , because this is _magic_ , but what.

The hair spell comes first, building extensions of magic on the end of mt hair and stopping when they get to my waist, the rest of the magic temporarily making my natural hair as straight as the charmed hair was, and set the dispelling words to "Ruby-hair". Next I charmed my hair color to a extremely light, almost white blonde hair, and set the dispelling words to "Boy-who-would-not-bloody-die", and my skin to a dark tan color that I remember from pictures of Asian Indians in some history book, and set the dispelling words to "Ada-the-awesome-elf". My eyes were changed to a more Asian shape, and turned a dark amber, with the dispelling words "Dobby-elf-rescuer".

When I was done, I carefully get off the bed and stand, using the carved staff that Ada had gotten me to balance as I carefully walk to the door, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror on it's back before I open it. Ada finds me a couple steps from my room, and when I stop and let her look over me, she nods approvingly before helping me hobble back to my room and pulling a chair out for me to sit on so that I can looking my mirror.

I look into the mirror and into the eyes of a stranger, who has burn scars, and though I don't really recognize myself, it feels kind of good. No offense to Ron, and Hermione, but most of what I associated with my old looks were bad memories, first because of the Dursleys, then because of my fame, and the backlash of being a person in the open that had come just hours before I was burnt. The absolute contrast between short, dark hair, pale skin, and dark green eyes and the pale hair, dark skin and white scar, and soft, but sharp amber eyes made it hard to imagine that the person in the mirror was the same as the one beneath the charms.

Ada had grinned at me as she saw my small smile.

"Now yous just needs a new name, and better sight," she told me softly as she brushed a strand of my currently white hair from my face. I smile at her in the mirror.

"Well, you're the one with the power of books," I tell her with a smile. "Get me what ever you think is best, and I'll try it. Getting this permanent can wait until the charms wear off."

She simply nodded and disappeared with a pop, appearing a few moments later with a big pile of books. She set them down before snapping, making the books sort them selves into two piles, one much larger that the other. "Here yous be. Have fun!"

* * *

 _So, hello! Welcome to my story, hope you like it!_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

* * *

Once Ada had helped me find a potion to fix my eyes and after I'd Changed myself permanently into the boy in the mirror and gotten a new wand (Ebony, 12 inches, Theseral mane core), Ada sat me down and started giving me lessons on how to act like an aristocrat in the magic and non-magic world, for Europe, Africa, South America, and Japan.

Apparently, in Europe, it's required for the aristocrats to learn Oculomeny, the art of guarding your mind if you want to be told anything important, and pretty much everywhere else it's almost required to lean your animagus forms. Other than that and various holidays, the manners between the magic and non-magic are basically the same, and all of them required being polite and respectful.

She also helped me find my first animagus form, which had turned out to be some animal I'd never heard of before; a kelpie.

When I asked her why she knew this and why she wanted me to learn it, she'd sniffed and said that she was the elf that had been assigned to a noble's children, and thus had to watch their lessons. "You need to be unidentifiable, yes?"

When she was done, five months had passed, and I'm pretty sure none of my friends would recognize me, because part of Ada's training had been turning my accent into something that made every word I spoke sound kind of like I was singing. My writing with quill, brushes, pens, and pencils was now looking a lot like calligraphy. She had also trained me to respond to a name the two of us had picked out; Noah Ezekiel Reis.

All during this time I had been receiving letters from Hermione and Ron, then just Ron, who had told me that Hermione had been petrified. Ada had stopped me from rushing to Hogwarts by telling me that she would brew the Mandrake potion and deliver it herself, but I couldn't go because then I would have to stay for another year.

The next letter after that was from Hermione and Ron again, and she told me that she had figured out that the creature petrifying things had to be a basilisk, and that it was getting around in the pipes, but no one but Ron had believed her.

Now, I look up from the rune and warding homework to find an owl pecking at the window, and I hurriedly let it in. It drops the letter on the desk and leaves with a ruffling of feathers. I open the letter, reading it with excitement, my face paling as I turn and run to the door.

"Ada! I have to go!"

* * *

 _Harry, Ginny and Hermione have been kidnapped by the heir of Slytherin! He said he was going to kill them. Hermione left me a trail leading to Myrtal's bathroom._

* * *

"Got your wand?"

"Yes."

"Potions?"

"Yes."

"Sword?"

"Yes."

"Gun?"

"Yes."

"Broom?"

"Yes."

"Sun-glasses?"

"No."

"Then take these."

"Ada, what- wait, is this a family line trace?"

"Yes, I just changed your parents and grand-parents. It's still incomplete though."

"So-"

"Yes."

* * *

 _'Open'_ , I hiss at the sink that Myrtal had indicated, and it slides open, revealing a giant sink hole. I turn, and let the manners that Ada had ground into me come to the surface. "Thank you Myrtal!"

"You're welcome, No'ah!" Myrtal said with a giggle, drifting out of the window to smile at me. "If you die down there, you can always come and share my bathroom!"

Outwardly I just smile, but inside I'm grimacing as I send about twenty-five different cleaning charms down the slime infested tunnel, doing each charm four times before I bring out the broom Ada had gotten me and start flying down the tunnels, a lumps lit on the end of my new wand as I stay as far away from the wall as I can while still flying down the pipe. At the bottom, I see the literal sea of animal skeletons, and I take a moment to lovingly pat my broom before I fly on, seeing the massive snake skins, and keeping a keen eye out for movement.

Most of the movement comes from me moving with my light, and I frown, noting in my mind to ask Ada for a magic light that I can project.

After like fifteen minutes of flying over the snake skins and skeletons, I pause as I see a fleck of red in front of me, and hear banging emanating from around the same place. I pause for a moment before I lean forward on my broom and hurry as fast as I can, pulling up in time to not crash into the wall.

"Ronald?" I ask the redhead in front of me as the banging stops.

"Who are you?" he asks suspiciously, squinting up against the light of my lumos.

"I'm Harry's friend. Harry couldn't come because he's in bed with a fever. He's been with me since Christmas," I tell Ron as I slowly float down and land next to him, dismounting my broom.

"Oh yeah?" Ron says. "Prove it."

"You were knocked out in a game of chess on your way to get Nikolas Flames's stone," I say. Ron studies me for another moment before he sighs.

"I'm sorry. It's just been hard around here without Harry. The Slytherins keep taunting us, Hermione and I, and saying that he ran away," Ron says with another sigh, leaning against the metal door behind him. "How much do you know about us?"

"I feel like I know you already, since Harry talked about you two so much," I say as I look at the door. "Were you trying to open that?"

"Yeah," Ron grunts. "It was opened recently according to this spell Hermione taught me."

"Well you won't be able to get in. It'll only open for a parcelmouth, unlike the entrance, which will open for anyone who can imitate the way open sounds," I tell him as I run my hand over the snakes.

"How do you know?" Ron asked curiously, and looks a little guilty when I look at him with surprise. "After Harry left, Hermione managed to get me to study, and I was curious about wards and lock because of my brother Bill, who works as a curse breaker. I found it really interesting."

"I can tell," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Any ways right here and here," I tap two sets of runes on either side of the door," are one of the really uncommon wards. Anyone who can speak an animal language will always have a extra part on their magic matrix, and while human vocal cords can imitate some sounds, the languages that communicate with animals are only there because of those extra parts, and these wards were set to only let people who have a parseltounge matrix part open the door. The first one you came across was only sound based."

"That's awesome," Ron murmured as his eyes traced the runes around the door. "What are the rest for?"

"They're basic wards for privacy, and tell the snakes that lock it how to pull back," I say, my eyes tracing them before I turn to Ron. "I'm guessing that the Chamber of Secrets used to be a refuge for the students in case a muggle born brought witch hunters to Hogwarts. It would require you to know how to hiss open, meaning you had to have heard parseltounge, which explains why the entrance was sound based. It also had a deadly monster to protect them once they were in. So, you ready?"

"For what?" Ron asks.

"To go in," I say, drawing my wand and putting my broom into my fanny pack.

"I thought you said only parselmouths could go in," Ron says, bewildered.

"I'm a parselmouth," I tell him.

"What?" he asks, drawing away.

"It's not like it's a bad ability you know," I tell him. "In the Americas, it's popular because of the Mayan's Quetzalcoatl. They also used it to ward off poisonous snakes. It also is one of the easier languages to attach to your matrix."

Then I turn back to the door before pausing. "How's you get in here anyways?"

"Mione."

I think about that for a moment before I shrug and turn to the doors. _'Open.'_

The snakes slide in a fancy pattern, making me roll my eyes. Ron, though cautious of me now, steps in next to me, his wand held up. The two of us advance down the long, dimly lit chamber in between the serpentine columns. At the last of the columns I have to tilt my head back to look up into the face of a giant granite statue dressed in wizards robes with hair and a beard that touch the floor. Ron cries out next to me and starts running toward the two crumpled forms.

"Hermione," he asks frantically, shaking first her shoulder, than Ginny's. "Ginny? Wake up!"

"They won't wake up," a calm, cultured voice says, and my eyes flicker to the source as a tall, dark boy emerges from the shadows of the pillar closest to the two girls, his edges unsubstantial in a way that reminds me of ghosts.

"What?" Ron asks, tearing his gaze away from his sister.

"They won't wake up," the boy said, twirling what I recognized as Hermione's wand.

"Isn't it rude to not introduce yourself?" I ask from my position at the entrance.

"You're the ones who came to my home," the boy replied calmly.

"Quite," I say. "You see, the thing is that it's not your home. I'm Noah Reis."

"Quite the claim," the boy said, walking towards me. "I'm Tom Riddle."

"Pleasure," I say, dipping my head the slightest bit, keeping my eyes trained on him. "And by what right do you claim this sanctuary?"

Behind Riddle, Ron was gaping at me as Riddle hissed at me. _'I am a parseltounge. That should be enough.'_

 _'You are not the true lord of the Ancient House of Slytherin,'_ I reply back calmly, drawing on the aristocrat mask Ada had pounded into me. _'And just so you know, it's impossible to lie in parseltounge. And besides that, I know many parselmouths who were most certainly not descended from Slytherin.'_

"What?" Riddle asks, his voice dark and furious, and I laugh at him.

"Try it some time!" I tell him, and he hisses incomprehensible words at me. Then he turns and raises his arms, walking towards the giant statue at the end of the room.

 _'Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four,'_ he hisses, and mouth of the far above statue opens. I break into a sprint the moment his back is turned, and crouch down next to Ron.

"What were you talking about?" Rom asks.

"He claimed this was his because he's a parselmouth, and I simply told him that I know many parselmouths who don't descend from Slytherin," I tell him before I pick up Hermione. " Come on, Riddle is Summoning some creature, and I don't want them to get hurt."

Ron nods and grabs Ginny, a black book dropping out of her robes. I pause to grab it, my eyes narrowing at the feel of the magic with in it weeping. Then, between the two of us we manage to hide them behind the closest pillar.

Then, before he can protest, I stun Ron and set him down between the girls. When Riddle turns back around as a slithering sound echoed from the face-statue, I'm the only person standing.

' _So hungry,'_ the basilisk hisses. _'Kill.'_

 _Well, there went my miniscule chance at getting it to go somewhere else or protect us_ , I think, pulling on the sunglasses that Ada had forced into my hand with my family line trace. I run back to the pillar on the side of the room and start climbing. The the top, I crouch and wait.

"Scared Reis?" Riddle asks, just like Malfoy.

"You wish!" I call back, before freezing as the familiar melody from my dreams haunts the edges of my hearing, steadily growing louder. Below me, Riddle was looking down the empty chamber. The music quickly reaches a high pitch that sets my bones buzzing, and flames erupt at the top of the pillar across from me, and fading to reveal the orange-red-gold bird that is grasping something in it's talons.

. . .

"Fawkes," I breath.

. . .

The phoenix trills, diving off the pillar and flying over to me, circling a few times before he settles on my shoulder and rubs his head on my cheek.

"That's a phoenix," says Riddle as he stares at him before his gaze drops to the bundle in my lap. "Though what that is . . ."

Then Riddle laughs. "So what have you done to get Dumbledore's trust? Abuse some children?"

"No. As a mater of fact, I hate him," I reply calmly as I slide the burlap packaging off the long thing with in, dropping a sheathed sword and a sheathed, matched pair of daggers into my lap. I'd become quite disillusioned from Dumbledore after being burned. "I've almost died three times because of him, and probably more because I was too young to remember."

"Then why are you saving his lackeys?" Riddle asks, the curiosity in his voice reminding me of Hermione.

. . .

"Because," I look up from the weapons.

. . .

"They're only here because of Bumbledore anyways," I say, strapping the weapons on, the silvery daggers on either side of my waist and the odd sword on my back. "So when is your creature coming out?"

There's a slithering sound, and Riddle examines his nails unconcerned as he walks over to the pillar across from mine and leans on it, examining his nails. "Why? Want to die soon?"

I roll my eyes. "Riddle, stop, you sound like my immature rival. I'd think you'd be more sophisticated considering how much effort you put into your voice."

"Well it's not like I'm going to let you leave," Riddle replies, and the basilisk slithers into sight. "Goodbye. _'Kill him'_."

The basilisk hisses and throws himself at the pillar I'm on as Fawkes takes flight, and I leap to the next pillar over.

 _'Fun,'_ I hiss, because I know it will bother Riddle, and because this is my first time being able to test how I can really move now. I jump to the next pillar again, and turn to face the basilisk.

 _Now I have to survive this._

* * *

 _Welcome back! Hope you like it! And about the sunglasses:_

 _Even regular glasses should help because they would mean that you are looking through something at the basilisk. I mean, Justin Finch-Fletchley was looking at the basilisk through a ghost and he was only petrified, that's why I think that wearing glasses would help, especially sunglasses. The basilisk (lets call her Lis) certainly seemed to leave all of the other petrified kids alone after they were petrified, and I figure that one you're petrified, you can't exactly see so he gaze wouldn't harm you anymore. If Lis had direct orders to kill, then why didn't she ever kill any of the muggle borns after they were petrified then?_

 _I think that Lis probably considers animals that are petrified as good as dead because one they're petrified they won't be moving so no vibrations or movement telling the snake it's alive, and they'll stop giving off heat as far as I can tell; fooling Lis's heat senses, and it does take a special potion to bring the petrified person back. There for, as far as Lis is concerned, those who are petrified are dead. I'm not saying that the glasses would stop Harry from being petrified, just that they give him a better chance of surviving. We know that Lis was blinded, but he doesn't, and if he glances into Lis's eyes before she is blinded, he dies. Now, I'm not going to be killing him since he's my main character, but he doesn't know that, and thus he's taking precautions._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Chapter 3**

* * *

I run, trying to get as far away from the poison green basilisk as I can while keeping it away from the others. The sunglasses luckily stay secure on my head but I still don't dare to look back. I manage to climb another pillar in thirty seconds, a wait breathlessly for the basilisk to crash into it, but it's not long before the parseltounge equivalent of screaming fills my ears and I wince.

Another scream comes moments later, and I can't stop myself from looking, my eyes first catching the basilisk's scales before I trail it's torso to it's head. It turns with a snap before I can shut my eyes, and I wince, blinking as I realize after a moment that I can still see, and I open my eyes cautiously. I stare into it's eyes now, looking at the remains of what had been large yellow eyes that are now mostly torn out and dripping blood down the snake's head.

I cry out as the basilisk snaps at Fawkes, the phoenix disappearing for a moment before he flashes next to me in a burst of fire.

 _"LEAVE THE BIRD! KILL THE BOY!"_

The basilisk turns his head towards me and lunges, sending Fawkes and I scrambling apart (though for Fawkes it was more of a graceful hop), and I bump into a pillar just as the basilisk's head hits the ground. I draw the sword and hold it as Ada had taught me. The basilisk lifts it's head and turns slightly, huge bloody eye sockets, mouth gaping open with fangs as long as the sword as it lunges-

I yell as the force of it's lunge sends it crashing down onto the sword I'm holding up, and I barely manage to keep the sword up, falling to my knees and letting go at the end as the sword twists to the side with the weight of the basilisk's head. There's a cracking sound as I do, and I blink down at my arm, to see a yellow-white fang buried in my left arm. I take a deep breath and yank the fang out. In all honesty, despite the decidedly white hot pain, it's not as bad as being burned was because this pain is more centered. I breathe and and let myself lean back, my hand covering the hole the fangs had made as I close my eyes, remembering the book I had read about basilisks once Hermione had said she thought the creature was a basilisk.

. . .

There is no cure for the poison of a basilisk.

. . .

There's a sudden weight on my lap, and then talon are gently clenching at sweat pants I'm wearing. I open my eyes and look down, the world only a blur of color, to see a haze of red on my lap.

"Fawkes-" my voice breaks, and I feel the phoenix's sharp beak nudging gently at the hand covering the hole where the fang had been. I let him move it, the hand sliding down my arm. He lays his head onto the spot a moment later, and I can't help but wince. Footsteps echo as I close my eyes and left my head go back to the wall again.

"You're as good as dead now Reis," Riddle's voice cove as echoing foot steps move closer. "Even that ridiculous bird of Dumbledore's agrees. Do you know what you did Reis? You made a phoenix cry!"

My arm is starting to feel hot now, but I ignore it, just breathing deeply.

"I think I'll sit here and watch you. Take your time, I'm in no hurry."

Riddle's voice sounds sharper now, and the pain almost feels like it's seeping away into the heat of my arm. Suddenly Fawkes flaps his wings and his talons grasp at my shirt, and he rubs his head on my face. I close my mouth and swallow convulsively when something salty gets in, and the pain that had been creeping towards my heart is washed up with the rest of my body in a sudden outburst of heat before it abruptly cools, feeling strangely like it had in my dream.

"What are you- Get away bird!" Riddle says abruptly. I open my eyes to see him standing over me, waving his arm at Fawkes, who had his wings spread over me. Fawkes meets my eyes for a moment before he flags his wigs and flies away from me.

"Phoenix tears," Riddle says quietly, staring down at my arm. "Of course . . . healing powers . . . I forgot."

I look down, my hair, trapped between the wall and my back, puling at the movement, and stare at the perfectly round scar on my arm.

"There is no cure for the poison of a basilisk," I hear myself say distantly.

Riddle scoffs. "Then what just happened?"

"I don't know," I say numbly.

"Doesn't matter," Riddle says briskly, and I look up to see him pointing Hermione's wand at me. Before he can do anything though, there's a rustle of wings and Fawkes drops a battered book, the one that had fallen out of Ginny's robes earlier, onto my lap, Fr a split second the two of us are staring at it before Riddle starts forward reaching for it-

And I act without thinking, grabbing the fang beside me and plunging it into the diary. Riddle screams, falling to the floor and writhing. The diary spits out ink all over my robes and my hands like I'd just opened a hose, before stopping abruptly, the same time a Riddle disappears.

I stare numbly at the ink-soaked diary and the Hermione's wand lying in front of me. There's a sort of deafening silence until Fawkes's wings cut through it as he flies to me, and he settles on my lap, butting at the hand holding the diary as he croons. I blink down at him for a moment before I take a shaky breath and, grasping Fawkes carefully, I stand, letting the diary fall to the ground. Fawkes nuzzles my cheek, pushing the sunglasses off of , perfectly comfortable under my arm. I walk to the basilisk's head and pull the sword out, wiping it carefully on my shirt before sheathing it on my back.

There comes a moan from the other side of the chamber after I grab Hermione's wand and the diary, and I turn to look at the spot where I'd put the other three. Ginny sits up as I walk shakily to her, and she looks at me with wide frightened eyes. Tears pour down her face as she scrambles backwards, making me pause.

Fawkes lets out a chirp after a moment, drawing her eyes to him until I cough.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say gently, my voice barely s whisper, and when I move this time, she doesn't scramble away, but she does watch me warily as I walk to Hermione and Ron. I set down Fawkes and Hermione's wand before offering her the fang-pierced diary, and she cringes away from it, her eyes wide.

"It's alright," I say, turning it to show her the hole through the journal. "Tom Riddle is gone now. The basilisk is as well."

I set the diary down so that she can grab it if she wishes, and Fawkes chirps again as he hops over to her, butting at her chin.

Then I turn to Ron and Hermione and pull out my wand, casting a silent Renervate on them, and they both gasp and fly upright.

"You stunned me!" Ron accuses when he sees me, while Hermione just looks around wildly. "And where'd you get the bird and the sword?"

"I did," I say. "And I'd do it again. The lady said that the creature was a basilisk, and if I had to worry about you getting in the way as well as the basilisk, I might have lost. The bird is Fawkes, a phoenix, he came to me with the sword and knives."

"Who are you?" asks Hermione, finally looking at me. "And where is that boy?"

"I'm Noah Reis, a friend of Harry's," I say as Ron fumes. "And if you mean Riddle, then he's gone. I stabbed his diary with the basilisk's fang."

Hermione scrutinizes me before turning towards Ginny, who is still staring at the diary and gently puling her towards her body and hugging her. Ron after an awkward moment joins them as Fawkes hops back to me. I pull him back into my arms and stroke him gently, ignoring Ginny's sobs and her telling what had happened to her.

A minute or so later, they're helping her stand, and they turn to me as I let Fawkes hop off my lap and I stand.

"Come on," Rom says after a moment, gently leading Ginny and Hermione back the way we had come in, Fawkes flying above us and leading the way, occasionally bursting into an encouraging song if anyone seemed to need it. In the gloom, his feathers are glowing a soft golden color. Eventually we reach the pipe that leads to Myrtle's bathroom, and Fawkes lands, chirping encouragingly at the three in front of me. They stop at the base of the pipe and look up it.

"Did you think about how we're supposed to get back up this Ron?" Hermione asks, her voice oddly subdued.

"Erm, no," Ron admits, just as subdued, and I step forward.

"I have a broom," I say, making them turn towards me. "I could take one of you up at a time."

"Alright," Ron says after a moment, gently pushing Ginny towards me. "Take her first."

I pull the broom out of my fanny pack and mount it, holding out a hand to Ginny. She takes it, and I held her climb on in front of me before wrapping one arm around her and use the other hang onto the broom. I kick off gently and carefully take us up the pipe. I'm surprised when, after a couple of moments, Ginny relaxes into me. It doesn't take long though before I'm landing on the wet floor of the bathroom, and Myrtle drifts down from the window to examine Ginny delighting in her hair, and generally distracting her from the situation. I send her a grateful smile and she winks at me. It doesn't take long for me to get Hermione and Ron up as well, Fawkes flying with me as I take Ron. When all of us are up, the sink covering the pipe to the Camber moves back into place, and Myrtle bids Ginny goodbye.

"Where to now?" Ron asks after Myrtle drifts off to her toilet giggling.

"Let's follow Fawkes," I say, pointing to the phoenix, who was standing at the door and waiting for us. Hermione nods, and after helping Ginny down from the sink she had sat upon, we all follow Fawkes's hopping steps as he leads us to Professor McGonagall's office. Ron knocks and pushes the door open and I stand awkwardly behind the rest of the group.

For a moment, there's silence as the four of us stand in the door way covered in muck, slime, blood and ink before there's a scream, and Mrs. and Mr. Weasley are flinging themselves at Ron and Ginny.

Not far behind them are two people I recognize as Hermione's parents, who converge upon Hermione with hugs and tears. I watch them for a moment before I look past them to where Dumbledore is standing at the mantelpiece with Professor McGonagall. Fawkes flaps his wings and rises to settle on my shoulder.

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley finally asks, pulling back from Ginny a bit so that she can look at me suspiciously.

"I think we'd all like to know that," Professor McGonagall states weakly, and I look at her in concern. I hesitate for a moment before pulling Riddle's book out and silently placing it on the desk.

Then Ron starts talking, staring all the way back at when I heard the disembodies voice, and ending when I stunned him. At this point the attention turns back to me.

"You claim to be Mr. Potter's friend, and you must have some proof or Mr. Weasley wouldn't believe you, but why did Mr. Potter go to you, Mr. Reis?" Dumbledore asks. I shrug.

"He asked a house elf to bring him somewhere safe, and I guess the thought my house was good enough," I reply, and Dumbledore's face takes on a thoughtful cast, but Professor McGonagall asks me to continue.

"He taunted me, called the basilisk, Fawkes came to me, I killed the basilisk, Fawkes gave me Riddle's book, and I figured that stabbing it on the fang of the deadliest snake in the world should do some damage," I say. "It worked, and then Mrs. Weasley over here woke."

I look around at every one before shrugging. "I must go now though, people will worry."

Fawkes chirps sadly, but hops off and onto the desk. With that, I turn and quickly walk away. I turn the corner, only to run into someone. I blink, shifting back to look up into the face of Lucius Malfoy, with Dobby hovering around his ankles, a stained rag in his hands as he takes the opportunity to try to finish polishing Malfoy's shoes.

"Ah! Mr. Malfoy, a pleasure to meet you, " I say, bowing quickly in the pure blood way, my palms together in front of my chest. His face tightens before he bows in turn.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, who might you be?" he asks, standing straight and appraising me.

"Ferris Selwin," I lie smoothly. "I was just about to come to you, my sister wanted me to deliver something."

I twist my hand behind my back, hoping desperately for my wandless magic to work for once and I almost sigh in relief as I present Malfoy with a horribly embroidered set of small pants. His face is a blank mask as he takes them and folds them, before putting his arm under his cloak, almost like he means to tuck then into a pocket, but I see Dobby holding them with a look of awe a moment later.

"That was all sir," I say bowing again before I hurry on, hiding my grin.

* * *

 _Sorry for the wait!_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Chapter 4**

* * *

When I get home, Ada is all over me, snapping me into the shorts she always uses when ever she gives me a checkup, and I lay there and let her do her examination, and let her move me like a rag doll after, putting my feel on a pillow and covering me with a blanket as ten words repeat in my head.

. . .

There is no cure for the poison of a basilisk.

. . .

I don't know when, but I eventually slip into a nightmare, the basilisk chasing me and biting me without Fawkes being there or the words from the book repeating over and over as Fawkes cries onto the wound, his tears doing nothing or the basilisk's venom lurking in my body and waiting until I'm happiest to strike or-

A song suddenly enters my dream, singing of peace and calming me down, pulling me away from the basilisk. My attention is drawn down to where fingers are stroking my arm, fitting in perfectly between the burns as bright red hair brushes them. I can feel the person's - a boy about my age from what I can tell - humming from behind me as he strokes my burns, his right arm holding me against his chest in the suddenly much cleaner and brighter Chamber. I know now, from my months of experience that if I try to see his face, the dream will end abruptly, leaving me feeling like I was doused in cold water, so I simply let myself relax into the embrace. My right arm comes up to rest upon his and his humming lulls me to sleep.

When I wake, it isn't abrupt, but a simple and slow realization from one second to the next in the drowsy warmth, that I am no longer asleep. My eyes open, and I stare at my arm, thinking. Ada had grown back all of the muscles and skin that had been burned away, and had I not asked her not to, she would have eventually healed the scars and made the areas affected by the burn look like nothing had happened. As it is, the burns had healed into silver-white scars that in no way affected my movement.

I sigh after a moment and slide my legs off the bed to sit up. Ada pops in, and I let her fuss around and make sure every thing's alright before getting up, dressed and sitting down to the breakfast Ada had made ("Blueberry pancakes and bacon!" she exclaimed cheerfully, sitting down across from me to her own breakfast. If I didn't know better I would have though that she was a cooking elf, not a healing one.).

When we're both done, Ada reading her issue of National Geographic as I drink the last of the milk in my cup, I speak.

"Ada, the basilisk bit me."

There's silence for a moment before Ada looks up, her face pale, eyes wide and frightened.

"No," she whispers, but i'm already shaking my had as I pull up my left sleeve to show her the circular scar again, and she flies around the table to look at it, placing her hands on it for a moment before clicking frantically, books appearing around her and he clicks again, all of the books falling open. She frantically reads one after another, her movements becoming more and more frenzied until she reaches the book I had read about basilisks, and I can tell when she finds the sentence that had been repeating in my head.

. . .

There is no cure for the poison of a basilisk.

. . .

"No!" she says again, wailing this time, sobbing as she throws herself at me. I hold her tight as I lean down to pick up the book and look at the description of the poison, and I blink before I gently push Ada back.

"Ada, I don't think I'm going to die though," I say, turning the book and setting it on my lap, using a hand to make sure she doesn't fall off. "Look, it says that the poison is supposed to work in five to fifteen minutes. I would be long dead by now if I was going to die."

Ada blinks and wipes her tears away with with a handkerchief I'd given her, her eyes scanning the numbers once, then twice, then a third time before they link to my words, and suddenly Ada throws herself at me again, crying as I gently rub her back.

There's a crack, and she immediately turns, leaping off my lap and into a position to defend me, making a surprised Dobby blink at us.

"Ada? Miste- Harry, sir? Did something happen?" Dobby asks, looking between to two of us. Ada leaps back up onto my lap after a moment to hug me again.

"Yous shall explain. Is punishment for upsetting Ada," she mumbles into my shirt, and so I roll up my sleeve to show Dobby the circular scar and I explain what had happened when I told Ada that I had been bitten.

"I showed her this," I end, gesturing to the book on my lap. "I told her that if I wasn't already dead, then I'm probably not going to die of the poison."

Dobby nods, looking thoughtful.

"Can you think of anything - anything -that coulds have done that?" he asks after a minute as I hug the shaking Ada.

"Well," I say, thinking back, "Riddle - the person controlling the basilisk seemed to think that the phoenix that helped me used his tears to neutralize the poison."

Dobby nods, looking thoughtful. Suddenly he looks sternly up at me.

"Harry sir! Yous were supposed to be resting and healing safely, not getting into danger!" he scolds.

"Sorry," I reply as Ada pulls back. "But my friend and my other friend's sister could have died!"

"Yes, Harry sir," Dobby replies, looking tired before he brightens. "Oh! Harry sir! Thank yous for freeing me!"

"Yous freed Dobby?" Ada asks from my lap, and I nod as Dobby bounces, excitedly launching into a heroic (and over exaggerated) version of how I freed him from the Malfoys.

". . . but the pants is all gone," Dobby finishes, looking downcast at these last words.

"Now that I can use my wand, I can make you some more," I say. "It's transfiguration, so they'll stay that way unlike the thing I made yesterday. Or I could sew them. And you can make your own clothes now too."

Dobby's eyes widen again before he smiles almost shyly. "I woulds very much like clothes from you Harry sir."

I turn to Ada, and she speaks, "I would like this too, Rafiki."

(Rafiki was the compromise Ada and I had finally agreed on, it means friend in Swahili, but it's sounds like a nickname or something.)

"Alright," I say after a moment and the two elves in front of me cheer. "But, do you think you could find me a sword instructor or something? I have the sword and the two daggers I got from Fawkes."

Ada looks thoughtful and she exchanges glances with Dobby before nodding. "I wills, Rafiki."

* * *

It doesn't take me that long to make Dobby and Ada new clothes, the longest part being the discussion of style and cloth to be used. Dobby wanted all bright colors, and Ada insisted on all dark colors, and the two kept trying to force their colors onto the other. I got them to compromise after a day by telling them to bring me what ever cloth they wanted, and I would make two out fits, one for each of them. That got them to stop, and the next day ten bolts of fabric appeared along with a sewing machine, thread, needles, books on how to sew, and several patterns. The fabric shades went like this: eye-watering rainbow tie-dye, deep red, neon green, emerald green, electric blue, navy blue, canary yellow, deep gold, bright pink, and royal purple.

When I'd gotten around to asking Dobby if he wanted to stay with me, he grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

I cut out the patterns that had been pinned to the different bolts of fabric and with a little measuring, cut out the fabric itself. The books on sewing that had been put on the table are very helpful, and it doesn't take long before I get the hang of the sewing machine. After a week, I'm feeling better than ever, and I've finished the clothes. Some of them don't really look right, but I suspect that Ada and Dobby will like them anyways.

I nervously call both of them into my room after dinner after a week, and point them to the stacks of folded clothing.

"Well?" I ask nervously as Ada lifts the dress on top of the pile up, the royal purple one I had made that hugged her torso to her waist then flared out, with sleeves that should go just past her elbow and a few shiny beads I had asked Dobby to get. Dobby's is a tee-shirt and shorts set made from the rain-bow tie-dye. They both jump at me, babbling and crying as they hug me, and I smile, gently hugging them back. After a minute, they draw back, eyeing each other before they race to their piles of clothing and start looking through them, exclaiming at the clothing, and snapping their fingers to put an outfit on and racing to the mirror to look at them selves. I smile as I watch them exclaim over their clothing, delighted in what I had done. Ada had even tried on the dresses in bright colors, and was twirling in front of me like a model on a runway.

"Thank you Rafiki!" Ada exclaims again after showing off her last dress, the tie-dye fabric, which I had made into a sundress.

"You're welcome Ada," I reply happily.

"Oh," Ada says suddenly. "We found yous a weapons instructor Rafiki!"

"Yes," Dobby says, hopping up next to Ada. "But we needs your help to get him, his last master solds him off recently so he contacted me. Since he was solds, he needs to be bought."

"Alright," I reply. "See what you can do. Try to get him for the lowest price. Also, measure him, I want to make clothes for him too."

"Yes Rafiki!" Dobby cheerfully exclaims. He turn and snaps once, making all of his clothes disappear before snapping again a disappearing. I gather up Ada's clothes, preform a the charm she had taught me to shrink myself into a house elf and turn to look at her.

"Come on, Ada, let me help you get your clothes to your room," I say cheerfully. She shakes her head at me, but I can see her smile as she leads me out of my room and through a small door in the wall next to mine into hers. I help her hang the dresses in her closet and when we're down, we both go to sit on her bed. It feels weird, being smaller then Ada, but it doesn't really matter as she smiles at me and starts telling me stories that the house elves have, as different from those of the wizards as the wizard's stories are from the muggles.

" . . . and I accept your offer of marriage," Ada concluded, finishing the tale of Hawly and Jenin.

"Huh," I mumble, almost asleep, and I blink up at Ada, catching her smile.

"Come on Rafiki," she says, gently pulling my to my feet and pushing me out her door and into my room again. She helps me up onto my bed and under the covers just as the charm making me into a house elf runs out of magic, making me shoot back to my normal size. She gently walks to the door and turns off the lights

"Good night Ada," I call sleepily as she closes the door, making her pause.

"Good night, Rafiki," she replied, shutting the door and leaving me in darkness.

* * *

 _Alright people, here's a new chapter, hope you like it! Not much action (or really any at all), so, very fillery. Anyways, I have a new story up, where's I've got the story Ada was telling Harry, it's called_ Tales of Mipsy the Traveler _. It's nothing really important, and not that well written or thought over, not eve sure what it's moral is supposed to be, but it's there if you want to read it._

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Chapter 5**

* * *

Thorin is the name of the elf that Ada and Dobby bring to me. He was formerly and elf employed by the Magical Law Enforcement Department of Britain. He, like Ada had, bowed to me and treated me with much respect - at least when we weren't training. His training was relentless, and he made me stand and move long after my muscles turned into liquids. The first thing he had told me when he started training me was that he would not go easy on me because that was the quickest path to getting me killed. Even so, when we were outside the room that Thorin had said was to be used solely for training, his personality flipped completly and he became painfully shy, and it took two of the three summer months before he would come into the same room as me.

Unlike Dobby and Ada, though, Thorin was skilled in two things; teaching self defense and cooking.

This made a big difference because while Ada could cook very well, her cooking was bent more towards getting the proper nutrition into me than tasting good. Thorin on the other hand knew how to cook everything just right, and because he knew self defense, he knew how to properly get me the right nutrient - ones that would help me more than Ada's experience with food would because he had to know how to keep a person's body in top shape instead of just average. In the month before he was able to speak with me outside of the training room, he made me memorize which foods I needed to eat in order to keep in top condition.

Ada drilled me in manners even harsher, going through the species other than wizards this time, getting me into my animagus form (Being a Kelpie, a creature that naturally has two forms surprised me at first, especially when I discoverd that it meant I had a second human form.), and sending me out into the world to practice my manners and earn favors with people near the school. The three of the elves collaborated to make an obstacle course, and to prepare me for being attacked at any time. By the time school was to start, I could wake up in an instant to retaliate with or without magic and had a sixth sense for immediate danger, as well as the looks and manners of a culturally ambiguous noble. The scar that had made me an idol to the European Wizarding World, which was now cover by burn scars, had been exorcised by a Japanese Onmyoji after Ada decided that I was fit enough to run a spiritual diagnosis on.

Now, I smile at me three elves as they proudly stare back at me, tears running down their faces. Ada coughs before speaking through her tears.

"Wand?"

I twist my hand and let the ebony wood slide into my palm from the depths of the dimensional pocket Ada had taught me to make as a part of Egyptian manners, called the Duat.

"Ring?"

The wand returns to the Duat as it falls and the thin focus/power storage ring of simple titanium flashes from it's place on me finger as I present my hand to Ada.

"Assorted other foci?"

A heavy bag drops into my arms and I open it to let Ada see the incense and other items.

"The Hogwarts founder's weapons?"

I drop the bag back into the Duart and draw back the notice me not enchantment on the three weapons.

"Clothes?"

The notice me not falls back over the weapons as a duffle bag falls into my arms, and I let Ada see the contents.

"Potions?"

Drop, grab, show.

"Broom?"

Drop, grab, show.

"Food?"

Drop, grab, show.

"That's everything then," Ada says, wiping her nose discretely on her sleeve.

"I'll see you all for Halloween," I tell her as I drop the food bag back into the Duat and kneel down to hug the elves that were now the only ones that I consider family. Dobby sniffs loudly, Ada following his example, and Thorion clinging to me silently before I draw back gently. "I'll be fine. This is what you've been training me for right?"

"Yes," Thorin answers me softly, Dobby and Ada too worked up to speak.

"See you!" I promise them once more before I turn and with a click I my heels find myself blinking up at the modest wooden cabin with the bright sign proclaiming it as Saraswati's Hostel, that was the last information the book had been able to provide about Benal, other than that the three schools were some where in the Sierra Nevada. I take a deep breath to settle my nerves before I briskly pull the door open and enter the building.

"Noah! Come here!" the man at the counter calls out cheerfully as he hands a croissant to a customer and waves me over. He's one of the people I had met during my Ada-inspired wanderings of the surrounding area, and we had become friends as I continued to return to his cafe for his marvelous tea and pastries. He's already pulling one of the buns out of the display and buttering it just the way I like as I slip under the counter and sit on the stool next to him.

"How've you been since I last saw you?" I ask in amusement. "Any wood sprites managed to nick a cooling pie lately?"

"Not since you helped me with those wards," Mason laughed as he placed the bun in front of me and sweeps brown hair out of his bright blue eyes briefly. "They've been happier than ever though, with the leftovers all left for them and kept warm. They've even started leaving me herbs and wild berries!"

I smile at his enthusiasm as he describes the incredible quality of the food that the fairies had left him, how the regulars had been commenting on the taste of the food for the last week and what he's been putting the food into. I occasionally chime in to add in another use or a way I would have used something.

It isn't until I'm picking the last crumbs of the bun off the plate that something happens. The door opens to admit someone, and I turn to look at them as I always do, but before I can analyse much more about the boy other than that he look Asian, he gasps.

This is enough to make me wary after the year and a half of it in Britain, and I stare back at him, ready for fight of flight. Someone else pushes him, breaking our eye contact, and apparently his shock, because he finally strides over to the counter. The group of laughing girls behind him follow, but I keep my eyes of him still as he orders a tea cup. With a little prompting, I put the cup together as Mason takes the girl's order and bustles around behind the pastry display. I thread my magic through the ring on my right ring finger as I send letters scrawling across the napkin I wrap around his cup before I hand it to him. He takes the cup and goes to sit in the corner of the room, nursing his cup and not looking down at his napkin.

By the time Mason has finished with the girls, I'm annoyed enough at this to be able to look away, and start talking with Mason again, this time about hair-styles and the trouble it takes to style long hair. While not entirely ignoring the boy's presence, it still surprises me when a perfectly thrown paper plane lands in my lap. I excuse myself for a moment as another customer comes in to look at the boy's reply.

 _Why did a werewolf trust you enough to warn others away from you?_

I blink at the sentence scrawled across the paper before looking up to meet the boy's amber eyes. Then I sigh and slip out from under the counter and walk to the boy's table.

"What do you mean by this?" I ask, setting the paper down in front of the boy.

"I mean what I said. Some werewolf liked you or something so much that they marked you as their child, with both of their forms I might add," he replies, narrowing his eyes. "That shouldn't have happened in their human form, let alone their wolf form. What happened?"

"I haven't seen a werewolf other than you as far back as I can remember," I reply snappily, and his gaze shades, the honey color darkening noticeably.

"That . . . can't be right," he mutters to himself, and I sigh as I let my fingers splay across the table and cast a notice me not across our table and conversation. His eyes flick to the side as the magic passes him to include him in it's bubble before his stare returns to me and he leans forward to blatantly sniff at me. The frown on his face grows with each sniff, and after a minute he pulls out a clam shell mirror and held it to his ear like a phone.

"Thomas, I need you to come to Saraswati's Hostel. Yes, I know you weren't planning to come, but it's important. No I can't just tell you, you wouldn't believe me. Yes, I'm in the corner lie always. Yeah. Bye."

He ends the call and looks solemnly at me.

"Let me introduce me self and see if I can explain this," he finally sighed. "I'm Ezekiel Darby."

"Noah Reis," I reply, presenting my right palm. He gives tired smile at that, but waves it off.

"What do you know about werewolves?"

"I know the customs and rituals between them and wizards from all over, but not all that much abut their pack life," I answer. "There wasn't enough time to teach me that."

He frowns a bit at that, obviously wondering what I mean, because I look like a noble, and usually nobles have their whole lives to learn these facts, before he dismisses it and leans forward, his sharp amber eyes focused on me.

"Well, the first thing you should know then is that werewolves, like regular wolves are very much pack animals. Though we spend most of our time in human shape, were are still werewolves all that while, so this still affects us, and because of that, there are even fewer wolves that don't find a pack of other werewolves by their first year."

"What does this have to do with me?" I ask.

"I'm giving you some background," Ezekiel explains, pushing a hand through his short hair before smoothing it forward. "The only reason I can think of for you being marked by a werewolf is if they never found a pack, and so instead formed one with a group of humans. It wouldn't sooth the wolf like a pack of werewolves would, but it would help greatly - especially if they found a way to be with the were wolf during full moons to wear it out."

"So one of my parents knew a werewolf and was friends with it?" I ask, a frown spreading across my face.

"Yes," Ezekiel replies, taking a sip of tea.

"There's a problem with that," I say slowly. "My parents died when I was one, and I'm absolutely sure that I haven't met any of their friends since because the relatives I was sent to hated them."

Ezekiel loses the last of the calm demeanor he had been holding on to by the skin of his teeth ever since he saw me, and his face goes pale.

"You haven't seen any of your parent's friends since you were one?" he asks weakly, his hand shaping so badly that he has to set down his teacup.

"Is that bad?" I ask, watching as he mutters to himself.

"Bad?" he asked, sounding like he was only just stopping himself from having a nervous breakdown. "I was assuming that you'd seen the werewolf in the last day!"

* * *

 _Alright, here's the next chapter, hope you like it! We're finally starting to get to the main story line now!_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Chapter 6**

* * *

Before Ezekiel can say anything else though, an African-American woman walks into the Hostel and rings the bell by the door.

"Anyone who is here for Benal, please come with me," she said, and immediately a rush of people under twenty two converged into the area in front of the doors, Ezekiel and I included, and we follow her as she leads us around to the unused outdoor seating area. I sit down, and Ezekiel follows me, two girls and a boy sitting with us after a glance at Ezekiel, and then we all watch the woman.

When all of the people were seated and silent, the woman started talking again. "If you are here, that means you think that you an make it at Benal."

She paused to look over us. "Some of you will fail."

Some of the people around me shuffles at that, but we all remained silent as the woman looked over us.

"If you are here for Raven, come with me," the woman said, and a bunch of kids under ten shuffled up to her. "As for the rest of you, the owner of this establishment has enough tokens for all of you. You are to take a token and use it to find you way to school. You have five days. No flying above the trees. No groups larger than five."

With that, the women knelt, and started talking to the kids gathered at her feet, and passing out leather bracelets to them. Ezekiel exchanges a look with the other people at the table, and they nodded at him and left.

"What's so bad about me not having seen the werewolf?" I ask Ezekiel as soon as the seating area had cleared out.

"The mark he put on you is strong, stronger than it has any right to be after - how old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"After twelve years. I can't imagine how strong a mark would have to be to last twelve years and still convey that level of protection," Ezekiel ranted, pulling his hair out of his ponytail as he winds his fingers into it. There's a small pop, and a scowling boy pulls out a chair next to Ezekiel, absently running a hand through his brown hair as he scowls at the Asian boy next to him.

"What's so important that you called me here?" asked the boy grumpily.

Ezekiel waves a hand at me, still muttering incoherently, and the boy turns to look at me, extending a hand after an awkward moment.

"Thomas Rodgers," he introduced as I shook his hand.

"Noah Reis," I reply as the boys amber eyes focus on me and he tilts his head before glancing at Ezekiel again.

"So, he's been marked, it's happened before," Thomas asked n irritation.i

"Ask when," Ezekiel said, finally falling silent as he watches Thomas, who turns to me.

"From what he said, twelve years ago," I shrug, and Thomas stares at me.

"What. The. Hgggugh," he growled, not even questioning me as he turned back to Ezekiel. "Why didn't you call the adults?"

"Because when I called you I just though it was a wolf who hadn't found any others, not a freaking natural Alpha who hadn't found any others," Ezekiel grimaced, and I frown at them.

"You think a natural Alpha claimed me as it's child?" I ask. "But doesn't your council find all of the natural Alphas, and set them up with packs?"

"Not always," Thomas said darkly. "Where are you from?"

"England," I state, and hold my hands up at their frowns. "I got chased out for being a natural Parseltounge."

"Why does the world hate me?" Thomas asked, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, before turning to Ezekiel. "Looks like I'm coming with you. I am not getting dragged into that mess."

* * *

They called the adults, and then we went in to get out tokens from Mason, who wished me good luck, and told me to remember to come back during the school year.

I'd wondered how the tokens were supposed to help, but once they were off the pole Mason had put them on, it was obvious. The piece of rock tugged slightly, and when Thomas noticed me looking at it as we followed it's tugging, he explained about it, looking less irritated than he had been earlier.

"They're actually tokens, as in made in a way called token magic," he explained, holding his up in front of himself. "These have been around since the Benal siblings made the school. They're meant to lead you first to the connection point, where we can get to the land the founders duplicated and lead us to the school afterwards. Even people who've been to the school before need one while they're testing you because the change the landscape and where the connection point is during the five days they test you."

"Thanks," I say, looking closer at the rock and the chain it's on, and Thomas offers a small smile.

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, letting the rock fall to his chest as he followed Ezekiel.

We're currently climbing through a forest, pine needles crunching beneath our feet.

"Do you know why the founders choose here to make their school here, in the Americas?" I ask after a few minutes.

"Well, it was a chance not to be constrained, and it allowed the Natives to learn more," Thomas explained. "It was also part of the school's moto, "We were sleeping dragons.". Because of the level of their magics, most of the Europeans considered the Americas harmless, the Benal siblings wanted to arm them, to give them a chance. It didn't work as well as they hoped because of the attitude that Natives with magic held towards their magic, but it did help some. I think they choose California specifically because of the Sequoias, and how large they grew. The school is mostly inside of living Sequoias."

* * *

We kept on climbing the mountain, Thomas answering my questions as we went, and getting less gruff. It wasn't until an hour had passed since we left Saraswati's Hostel that we encountered a problem. Ezekiel stops, and Thomas cuts off his explanation about who the woman that had come to pick us up was.

Thomas's eyes suddenly seems to glow as he looks at whatever is in front of us, a growl coming from low in his throat as a giggle started. "Teihiihan."

"Amarok," the creature before them replies, and I try to move forward, but Thomas stops me.

"Don't," he says simply. Then the two leap forward with a snarl, and the fight in done in a minute. They leave behind a dark skinned body the size of a child.

"What was that?" I ask quietly as the two wash the blood off a stream that we had been walking by.

"Teihiihan, cannibal dwarves," Thomas says shortly. "They're quicker than humans, and don't wait for spells. They also really don't like werewolves."

"Oh," I say, pulling a towel from the Duat.

"Why did he call you Amarok?" I ask, handing him the towel, and he grunts his thanks.

"Amagok. Means Grey Wolf in Inuit mythology. Can also mean any type of wolf."

He tosses the towel to Ezekiel, who quickly uses it, then tosses it back to me.

"We need to move faster," Ezekiel says as I put the towel back into the Duat.

"Fine," Thomas mutters. "Come on, Reis. Let's go."

I follow them as they keep climbing through the forest, the rock on its chain tugging me. After about an hour, we come to a clearing in the forest and find ourselves in front of a wall. Thomas looked at it and sighed.

"Can't we go around it?" I ask, but Ezekiel shakes his head.

"No, we can't go around anything we come across, now come on," he sighed, and walked towards the brick wall, Thomas following. They looked at the wall for a moment before Thomas sighed and knelt, putting his hands out for Ezekiel to step on. With the boost, Ezekiel was able to grab the top of the wall and pull himself up so he was straddling it. From the top of the wall he called, "You next!"

I look at Thomas, who nods, before I carefully step on his hands. I wobble, but Ezekiel grabs my hands before I have to step down, and between the other two boys I safely straddle the wall. I look down the other side, and stare at the rocks surrounded by hot coals before Ezekiel coughs to bring my attention back to him. Thomas is holding his hands out, and Ezekiel is holding one. I copy him after a moment, and between us we manage to get him up.

"Why is it always stepping stones?" Thomas asks in exasperation as we look down the wall.

"I'll bet it's because you hate them so much," Ezekiel snorts. "One of the teachers probably heard you complain, and set this up just for you!"

"Haha," Thomas says flatly, before jumping down to the first stone. Ezekiel copies him after he jumps to the next one, and after a moment of watching them nonchalantly jump from stone to stone I jump down and cautiously copy them. We land safely at the end and look at the next set of obstacles, chest high walls placed between high walls of water with hungry looking piranhas swimming through that hovered over a space about the same height as the walls. "Vaults and Hurtles."

"Yeah, yeah, you think you're so funny," Ezekiel grumbles before he placed his hands on the wall and hauled himself over it, Thomas and I quickly copying, and ducking under the piranha water tanks cautiously. This doesn't take as long, but by the end, I'm panting, and the two werewolves are breathing heavily. We just keep going, and crawl through the dark tunnel in front of us. Ezekiel mumbles about halfway thought, "This is just a glorified obstacle course."

"I know," Thomas mutters from in front of me. "Better this than fighting though."

"Mph," Ezekiel grunts. After the tunnel comes a series of thin corridors that we move through sideways, back and fourth. Then comes a diagonal rope that we climb up across a pit of snakes ("Oh, come on. It's too cold for Rattlesnakes here!") and down. Then we leap over a couple of ditches full of a mysterious yellow gas that hisses ("Please don't be mustard gas."). After that we climbed some slopes and jumped down only climb another slope a couple of times before we got to the balance beam, which stood over what looked to be a lion's dens. Then we had to vault through several sets of windows, climb up and down a ladder, and climb a couple more slopes and jump from the tops. By the time we're back in the forest, it's starting to get dark.

I watch Ezekiel and Thomas argue under their breath at each other about setting up a camp. By the time they've finished, it's fully dark out, and I've already started a fire. Thomas turns in triumph, only for the both of them to stop and blink at me in confusion.

"When did you do that?" Ezekiel asks in confusion, looking at the fire, and the beans off to the side with steam coming off. I swallow the mouthful of beans that I have before I reply.

"You two argued for about an hour. I got bored and started the fire after fifteen minutes, and the beans about fifteen minutes later."

"How did we not notice this?" Thomas asks flatly as I swallow another mouthful of beans.

"You two looked pretty involved. I thought you were going to kiss at some points," I say, and the two of the very carefully look away from each other, making me laugh. "So are we going to stay here?"

"Yes," says Ezezkiel flatly, flashing a glare at Thomas who ignores him in favor of poking through his bag, and pulling out a long bag. "We should be safe enough so long a we remain in Thomas's tent."

Thomas, after setting his long bag down and tapping a charm attached to the top to make it expand into a tent, makes a show of opening it and showing the roomy interior, a fact that makes me blink for a moment before shrugging it off.

"I'm ready to sleep," I say after finishing off the last of my beans. "So where should I go?"

"Here," Thomas calls from within the tent. "I enter, and after a glance around walk over to Thomas who is holding a door open for me. I glance around at the fiery reds all over before I turn.

"Thanks," I say to Thomas, who is still at the door. "For coming with and for answering my questions."

"You're welcome," he replies calmly. "Can we have the rest of the beans?"

"Sure," I smile, and close the door. I lean back against it for a moment and just think about a day before I sigh and slip into a fresh pair of clothes pulled out of the Duat, and put my now dirty clothes into it. I turn off the light, climb into my lent bed, and quickly fall asleep.

* * *

 _Here we go, on our way to school. Hope you like it!_

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Chapter 7**

* * *

It takes us another two days to arrive at the connection point, which Thomas and Ezekiel say is actually making pretty good time, fighting a dragon, kelpie, Sphinx, two more Teihiihan, an emela-ntouka, a kishi, and a baku, not in that order. At some point, a bird that Thomas labels as a Fenghuang at a glance comes towards us, and we duck, but it does nothing more than bursh through my hair with the tips of it's talons as it swoops down before flying off. We stumble through the connection point after the dragon with our clothes smoking and slightly charred, and are met with a valley full of trees as tall as the mountains around them. We stumble to a stop, and just stare at the valley for a moment, breathing in the crisp air.

Then something makes a move beside us, and our wands swing towards the animal, my attention split between the animal - what looks like a large black dog, and Thomas. When he relaxed after seeing the dogs, I allow myself to as well, and look down at the blackened bits of the clothes I had chosen today, cleaning and drying them in a single movement as Ezekiel grins and moves towards the dogs, Thomas at his side. I look up when they start making little barks and whines, but after the past three days, and my parceltounge, that ability is nothing. I look up when they swing themselves onto two of the dogs and break away from the mostly sleeping pack with a third riding behind them.

"Grab the collar and use it to brace yourself," Thomas says from his dog, scratching between the ears of the dog he's riding. "They're hellhounds, a misleading name, entirely because of their size and coloring. They're actually big softies that don't have any objections against different races. Yours is a female named Gaea."

"Thanks," I say pulling myself onto the hellhound and carefully petting it between the ears. There's a sort of vibration, and I glance back to see Gaea's tail wagging, and I laugh slightly, the hesitation I had from my memories of Dudley's Aunt Marge and her bull dog set behind me. "And thank you, Gaea."

Gaea let out a woof, and Ezekiel laughs. "She says to have fun."

"Why did I just get a feeling of impending doom?" I ask, but Thomas and Ezekiel just laugh. "Thomas!"

I yelp as suddenly Gaea and the other two hellhounds plunge over the cliff, leaping from inch wide ledge to inch wide ledge. It only takes me a moment though to adjust, my hands tight around the collar and my legs gripping Gaea's sides as she leaps in a way that reminds me of my broom in a storm. I start to laugh, easily following Gaea's movements, Ezekiel and Thomas laughing behind me. It takes us five minutes to reach the ground, and by the time we do, my hair is in even more of a disarray than it had been the past two nights, the braid falling apart because the rubber band had lost so much of the hair.

"Did I mention that they're daredevils?" Thomas asks, sounding a bit breathless as he and Ezekiel climb off of the hellhounds who had taken them down, giving them friendly scratches on top of their heads. They get a gently woof and head but before they amble over to the group of hellhounds sleeping in the sun.

"Ha ha," I mutter, throwing my leg over and sliding off of Gaea. I scratch between her ears with a gentle smile. "Thank you."

Gaea buts my wrist and gives me a tongue lolling smile before running off to join the pack. I watch her for a moment before turning to Ezekiel and Thomas, who are walking down a trail that hadn't been visible from the entrance to the valley, but is now obvious. I quickly dart up the trail to join them, a huff of laughter escaping me as I realize that they're arguing again, this time about the merits of using hellhounds, both of them arguing for different reasons.

"It's because they don't mind any other races-"

"If the founders had wanted something that didn't mind different races, they would have just enchanted something-"

"-but enchantments can be broken, and tokens might wear away, especially since you know how long therm they were planning. With the hellhound pack, there will always be transportation that won't mind any of the races they'll have to carry, even the cats-"

"-yes, but who's to say that the cats don't mind the hellhounds, they are basically over sized dogs after all."

"The dogs mean no harm, and if anything, the cats should be worried about us werewolves."

"Yes, because we haven't figure out how to control ourselves, as if. The werecats are more dangerous than us, loathe as I am to admit it because of their size, they can easily sneak into houses and bite people. It's a bit harder for us-"

"Not all were cats are that small, you know. The weretigers and werelions certainly aren't."

"Don't talk to me about the were lions. I'm just incredibly glad that they don't" mumble mumble "In the same way as real lions."

I listen in amusement, undoing the braid I had my hair in, brushing it, and rebraiding it. as they get entirely off track as we follow the trail. There's a fork after a couple of trees, but that's quickly solved when Ezekiel and Thomas check which way their tokens are pulling, their argument not even pausing. By the time we're at the end of the trail, they've somehow managed to get onto the subject of Europe, how they hate it, and how England is the worst of Europe.

I'm listening to them half with amusement, and half with slight despair as they moan over various things the European governments have done, and I have to stop myself from bumping into the when they suddenly stop.

"We're here," Ezekiel says, turning to look at me.

"Stick close," Thomas says, pulling me up so that I'm between the two of them. "The vampires will no doubt try to do something to you. If any of them so much as h

ints at hurting you, go up to a werewolf, any werewolf, or a wold spirit. They'll protect the child of an Alpha on principle. The werecats are a secondary option if there aren't any werewolves around, but be careful."

They turn back to the tree that the path ends at, and using one of the pieces of Bart that stick out as a handle, Ezekiel pulled a door open, revealing a large room carved inside of the tree with a soaring ceiling covered in luminescent moss, with round tables growing out of the floor scattered around. On the other side of the room, there are two people that looked like thay had been talking, but are now watching us.

"Thomas Rogers," the orange haired man says, amusement coloring his tone. "I thought you were staying away from here."

"Zion," Thomas nods as the two adults come closer. "Someone called me up, told me there was something interesting. They were right."

"Is that so?" the woman asks, her brown eyes sparking with amusement. "Well, I'm glad that you think so. Nice to have you back Thomas."

Then she turned to me. "Noah Reis. Nice to meet you. I hope we exceed your expectations."

"Thank you," I say carefully.

"Introductions aside, you three are the first ones here. Congratulations," Zion says, stopping in front of us, and I blink as I realize that his eyes are different looks. One is red, and the other one is green.

"Thank you for informing us," Ezekiel says, pushing me back slightly, his eyes fixed on Zion. "May we have our room keys now? We might as well choose the good ones while we're alone."

"Of course," the woman smiles, and holds three keys. "I trust you can show Mr. Reis here what to do?"

"Yes," Ezekiel says, letting the brown haired woman drop the keys into his hand. "See you three for dinner then."

With that, the two adults walk past us, pushing the door open as they continue their discussion. The tension that had one with their presence melts away, and Ezekiel relaxes, throwing a glance behind him at the closed doors.

"Who were they?" I ask as Ezekiel turns and hands me a key.

"The woman, Adela Svera, she's the Head of Benal. The man is Zion Chart, one of the Ancient Vampires, but he still hold himself in the service of one who is a couple centuries older than him. He's the foremost expert in Runes in the world among any species. He teaches Runes here."

"Wow," I say, glancing down at the key, and taking in it's utter ordinariness. "So what now?"

"Let's go find our rooms. First come first serve, the tops of the trees in this case," Ezekiel says, walking past me and opening the door. "Now that we've gotten here, the tokens will take us there."

Thomas and I follow him, our tokens in our hands, just taking in the huge trees. After a couple of trees, our tokens pull us in different directions, and I look at Thomas and Ezekiel, who just go up to opposite trees before I go up to the tree.

"Now put your hand on the tree, it'll open and show something like lobby," Ezekiel calls out. "Across from you, there'll be a set of doors, put your hand on those too. They'll open. When you're in, put your key into the lock beside the door. It'll take you to your room."

"Alright, how do I get out?" I ask, placing my hand on the tree in front of me, and watching as a door slid open.

"The room you use to get to your room works like an elevator. Get into it, then out a couple seconds later, and you'll be in the lobby," Ezekiel says, his voice faint, and I take a deep breath before stepping into the tree. I look around me, at the library on the right, the piles of cushions, the couches, chairs, tables, and the little pantry on the left, all lit from above by luminescent moss, with little patches off moss growing next to each of the chairs and cushions. Like Ezekiel had said, there was a set of doors across from me, and I stride across the room to them.

I open the door and step into the room, turning as the doors close. I put the key Ezekiel had given me into the lock next to the door, and it opens after a moment, revealing a room carved of a warm wood. I step out of the elevator and onto the dark red wood floor, looking across the room, taking in the oranges and dark blues decorating the room.

It's perfect. There's a big window across from me, looking out onto the rest of the valley, facing two other sequoia.

To the right is a plush bed with a navy blue bed cover embroidered with the night sky set into the wall, a couple of rows of books along the same wall. To the left is a little kitchen, arranged in a different way than Aunt Petunia's kitchen with navy blue counters and walls, speckled with bits of orange, and a staircase along the wall next to it, leading to a second story above my head. Under the staircase is a fire place, with a fire burning in it, and some plush chairs, as well as a table.

The middle is clear, and has a rug with the stars on it. I walk out to the center and turn so I can see what's on the balcony, and blink at the assortment of ropes, chains, bones, chunks of clay, feathers, plants, and random chunks of rocks.

There isn't a ceiling, instead the wooden walls extend upwards until they're lost in shadows, and though every thing is lit by the window, I can see patches of moss strewn all over. There's a knock on my door and I walk over to it to open it.

"You got a good room, " Ezekiel says, looking round himself as he comes in, Thomas walking behind him.

"Thank you. Why is it already decorated?" I ask, watching as Ezekiel walks out into the room and spins.

"It reads your mind partly, and parts of your room," here Thomas glances up at the balcony, "are there because it predicts what you will be good at, and provides supplies. You'll most likely need most of the stuff up there at some point."

"What do your rooms look like?"

"Come and see for yourself," Ezekiel invites.

* * *

 _Hours later . . ._

I laugh as I run into the hall the token had led me to first.

"You know I'm right!" I yell behind me, ignoring the attention that I'm attracting.

"You are not right!" Ezekiel yells as he runs in behind me, trying to tackle me. "Purple is not a girly color! Especially not dark purple! It's the color of royalty!"

"Yeah, and who dreams of being royalty? The girls!" I laugh, avoiding his jump. "The boys want to be knights! Not wimpy princes!"

"You know, I'm usually the one who fights with Ezekiel like this," I hear Thomas remark as he shuts the door behind himself. "It's kind of nice. Silencio!"

I turn to growl at Thomas, but like Ezekiel beside me, no sound comes out of my mouth.

"Uh-hu," Thomas says, looking unimpressed at the both of us before he starts dragging us over to a table with some people at it. I blink then wave when I realise that it's the same people we had sat down with back at Saraswati's Hostel.

"These are the werewolves and wolf spirits in our year," Thomas introduces. "Everyone, this is Noah Reis. He'll be running with us for a while becuase an unknown natural Alpha marked him. You ready to behave now?"

I tilt me head for a moment before I nod. A quick Finite later I'm speaking with the rest of the people at our table.

* * *

 _Hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Chapter 8**

* * *

After dinner (ordered by menu then appearing on our plates like it does at Hogwarts), I stand and stretch. Someone taps my shoulder, and I turn to find an red haired (and I mean red like fire) standing behind me, looking almost startled. His eyes - they're a thousand different colors competing and battling for the same space, gold and silver folded together a thousand times, a flickering fire about to go out, a raging inferno the cannot be stopped, the grey of ashes, the glow of lava -

"Yes?" I ask as Ezekiel stands and moves closer to me. The boy opens him mouth for a moment before closing it with a frown. He makes and odd motion with his hand that ends with his fingers in line with his nose and pointing upwards, the sign for requesting permission to create a superficial mind ink so he can speak with me.

"Why are you here, bi-" Ezekiel starts, but the boy make a sharp slashing motion, cutting off Ezekiel's words. Ezekiel looks between me and the boy before me shakes his head. "So it's like that is it?"

I look between Ezekiel and the boy for a moment as Ezekiel stares intently at the boy before shrugging. "Whatever. Have fun you two."

I watch Ezekiel turn and head for the door before I nod. "I'll speak with you."

I reach out and let the slight link form between out minds, and word come to me.

 _"Hello, I'm Brandr,"_ the red haired boy says with a smile. _"I . . . um, I was wondering if I could be your friend."_

 _"My friend?"_ I ask, my mind turning immediately to Ron and Hermione, who I had left behind. _"Why? You don't know me. We've only just me."_

 _"I - my species can sense a person's character,"_ Brandr explains nervously. _"I - you're really bright. Um, that means that you're a good person, and you have the same shade that most of my friends have."_

 _"Oh,"_ I state, turning that thought over in my mind. _"Well, I guess so. I'm not really sure what friends are supposed to be, but I can try. I'm Noah. Noah Reis."_

 _"Thank you,"_ Brandr says with a smile, before he hesitates for a moment. _"May I sit with you tomorrow?"_

 _"Sure,"_ I reply, feeling slightly awkward. _"I should probably go now though."_

 _"Of course,"_ Brandr nods and steps out of my way. "See you tomorrow."

"Yes, see you tomorrow," I reply, sending a glance at Thomas who's still sitting at the table before I turn and exit the dinning room.

* * *

The next morning I sit down at the table next to Thomas, who's eating cereal as he reads a book, and order the toast and jam option off of my menu, and start eating.

"Phoenixes can turn human if they love someone," Thomas comments without looking up from his book. "It hasn't happened in about a thousand years because that's so rare. You won't see an phoenix in human form otherwise though. Something about their magic."

"And what is that delightful tidbit about?" I ask after swallowing a mouthful of toast, and Thomas looks up from his book, his amber eyes sharp before he glances back down again.

"Nothing," he says, stick another spoon with Cheerios into his mouth. "Just something you should know."

"Lovely," I comment and take another bite of my toast. A moment later, Brandr drops into the seat to my left and smiles at me, one again making the sign to request a link. I wave a dismissive hand and mentally reach out.

 _"How was your sleep?"_ Brandr asks me as he looks over the menu for a moment before ordering what appears to be a bowl of sunflower seeds and almonds, with a glass of water.

"Fine," I reply aloud, raising a hand to wave at Tamara, one of the werewolves Ezekiel had introduced to me last night, as she sat down a table away. "How was yours?"

 _"It was adequate,"_ Brandr replied, and for a moment, there's awkward silence before Ezekiel wanders up to the tale with his eyes closed, and blindly points to something on the menu. The bowl of sugar cubes appears before him, and he pops one into his mouth, his eyes closed the whole time.

"Good night's sleep?" Thomas asks without looking up.

"Oh Fenris yes," Ezekiel mutters, his eyes finally opening. "Sleep is heavenly. Bless Hypnos and Morpheus."

Brandr and exchange glances and laugh silently for a moment.

 _"What classes are you planning on taking?"_ I ask as I take another bite of my toast. _"I'm planning on Wandless Transfiguration, Spell Smithing, Runes, and Faeri magic, as well as the mandatory classes."_

 _"Shamanism, Healing, Potions, and Illusions,"_ Brandr says. _"Why is it you want to learn Transfiguration and Faeri magic? Those are some of the easier magics, and are usually learned by this time?"_

 _"Because my parents dies, I was sent to live with mundanes,"_ I explain a little bitterly, as I finish off my toast. _"I only found out that I was a wizard two years ago."_

 _"And yet you still managed to get into here,"_ Brandr says in a quiet voice. _"I know many who have been learning magic all their lives who failed to get in."_

 _"I got lucky, Ezekiel took interest in me,"_ I say, opening my menu and looking for a good drink. _"So, why healing and potions?"_

 _"Healing is . . . a natural attribute of my race,"_ Brandr admits after a moment, finishing the last of the seeds in his bowl. _"And as for potions, they are very versatile. While magic can be used to do many things, potions work in different ways, they fold magic in more complex patterns than we often have time for, and many can be stored for years."_

"So," Ezekiel clears his throat, and I look up just in time to see him open his sharp amber eyes. "What's the peacock's name?"

"Him?" I ask, pointing to Brandr. Ezekiel nods. "He's Brandr."

"Brandr, huh?" Ezekiel asks before he makes the link request sign. Brandr shoots me a glance before he sighs.

 _"I think he wants this to be a private conversation,"_ he notes, and I can feel the link start to dissolve. _"Talk to you later?"_

"Of course," I reply, and Brandr simply smiles at me before turning to Ezekiel. I watch them stare at each other intensely for a moment before I turn to Thomas on my right. "So what are you reading?"

"Finally, you ask," Thomas says sarcastically as he lifts his book and turns it so I can see the cover as he keeps reading.

"It's a book catalog," I state after a moment. "For fictional books."

"Yeah," Thomas says, lowering it back to the table. "It was the only book I brought with me, so I'm reading it while I wait for someone to ship me all of my other books. I've found a few things worth ordering so far, but most of this is newer ideas that while original, twist any supposed traits said to be held by a race out of proportion."

I glance at the epic glaring match going on between Brandr and Ezekiel before I turn back to look at Thomas, and catch him looking at them too. He immediately glances down when he catches my eye, but I don't miss the frown.

"Here, I forgot to give you this earlier," Thomas says, thrusting an envelope that had been serving as his bookmark at me. "They think they're getting closer. They haven't cleared Europe in a while so they're finding a lot of werewolves that aren't in strong packs, but not any natural Alphas yet. But there have been rumors of a man who had been living utterly alone for the past twelve years, and there are several packs that have tried to get him to take over."

"Remus Lupin," I mutter, reading the letter. "Known to be friends with Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter."

"James Potter is the only one known to have had children," Thomas says after a moment. "Harry James Potter, supposed Savior of the Wizarding World, and Boy-Who-Lived."

"I know," I say lightly around the lump in my throat. "I did live in England after all."

Thomas take back the letter after a moment, and watches me."You knew we were going to find out. There aren't that many natural alphas."

"I knew," I say, closing my eyes. "So, anything else? Other than Black trying to kill the boy Hero of course."

"Well, they've found that the Headmaster of Hogwarts went looking for him over the summer, apparently hoping for help in finding their missing 'savior', but no one's seen him in a week or so."

"Alright," I nod, and push my feelings aside for a moment. "So, what classes are you planning on taking?"

"Token magic, Languages, Runes, and Old Magic," Thomas says, pushing an errant strand of brown hair back from his eyes. Then he turns annoyed eyes to Ezekiel and Brandr, who were still in their intense staring contest. "Are you two done yet? Because I'm done distracting him from wondering what you two are fighting about when you literally just met."

"But-" Ezekiel says, breaking away to look pleadingly at Thomas.

"No. He's made his intentions clear. Noah will be fine," Thomas states flatly. "Now eat an actual breakfast."

"But Thomas! Sugar is a balanced breakfast!" Ezekiel protests. "My bowl of sugar is as heave as a gold nugget!"

"Not that kind of balanced," Thomas growls at him, and quick grabs his menu and taps on one of the options. A plate of hash browns, sausage, and fruit appear before Ezekiel, a glass of milk following a moment later. "This kind of balanced!"

"But Thomas," Ezekiel whined. "I hate sausage. And all of that stuff is for lunch, not breakfast."

"Eat," Thomas commands, raising his voice so that I the tables near us can hear, picking up his catalog. "Unless you want to go and spar for the rest of the day on an empty stomach. I'm sure your mother would love to hear that you aren't following her instructions."

I laugh, and Ezekiel throws me a glare as he sullenly picks up the hash brown. I can hear people at the table around us laugh as he bites into it with a grumble. "Traitor."

I spend the rest of that day, and the day after getting to know others better. Tamara, Shane, and Myf, the other wolf type creatures in our year are nice, but in the long run I prefer Thomas, Ezekiel and Brandr. I notice the way Ezekiel is awkward around the other wolves, even though he claims to have been friends with them for the past two years, and I can tell that Thomas sees it from the way he looks between Ezekiel and the other wolves. When ever we drift apart into separate groups, he immediately says something that makes Ezekiel snap back with a witty comment, and I know I''m not imagining the way his shoulders relax as he does so.

It takes me only a moment of watching them to realize that I haven't seen them apart once since Ezekiel called Thomas, and as I watch them bicker like a married couple, I wonder what it was that made Thomas decide to separate from Ezekiel and not come to Tiger with him.

Brandr . . . is odd, and that's honestly the best way to describe him. I'm also pretty sure that everyone around me knows something that I don't because when they come up to us for the first time, and start to say something, Brandr cuts them off with the sharp gesture. They all glance between the two of us, break out laughing, then start talking on an entirely different track than what ever it was they were going to say when they first came up to us.

I occasionally manage to catch Brandr just watching me and smiling when I look up from doing something (mainly beating all of my opponents in chess. Turns out I learned something from Ron when we played it.), but before I can do anything, the person talking to me does something to catch my attention, and by the time I've replies and looked back, he isn't looking at me any more.

Then the day I had been waiting for comes,

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Chapter 9**

* * *

I wake up in my bed with a sigh as I feel the magic shift slightly around me. Thomas had warned me about this at some point, and told my not to worry because it was just the connection point settling. Now that the test is over, magical transportation can reach the school. I sigh slightly and prop myself up on my elbows to stare across the room.

My expectations are fulfilled when moments later, Ada pops into my room, Thorin and Dobby moments behind her.

"Rafiki!" Ada exclaimed, throwing herself at me, and knocking my breath out of me as y elbows slide out from under me. There were two more thumps as Ada started babbling nonstop into my chest, Thorin and Dobby hugging my legs tightly.

"It was so boring," Ada finally concluded her summary on the state of things over the past five days while I was gone with a wail.

"Hey, hey. It's okay," I comfort her, patting her shoulder under the purple dress (the one I made) she was wearing. "You can come right up to my room next year."

"And how did you two fair?" I ask Thorin and Dobby as I sit up, Ada still clinging to my shirt. They exchange glances before shrugging.

"Coulds have been better," Dobby says. "No new messes to find."

"Coulds have been worse," Thorin adds. "We gots everything clean, and Dobby and Adas be leaning to fight."

"I'm glad," I say, taking in their clothing choices. Dobby is wearing the electric blue clothing set I'd made him, and Thorin is wearing a dark grey set of clothing I'd made for him after Ada badgered him into revealing his favorite color. "I think you'll have plenty of work to do here."

"Oh yes," Dobby says, and three three house elves all look around in complete unison. I stifle a laugh at their look of pleasure at the contents of the room, not doubt seeing many messes I don't. Ada lets go of my shirt and moves to stand between the other two house elves. "Much to do."

"So," I start, interrupting their blissed out looks at the idea of cleaning, and three sets of bright green eyes swing around to look at me. "Breakfast?"

"Oh," Ada says, slightly disappointed.

"Yes!" Thorin says brightly. He snaps his fingers and a breakfast tray appears over my lap as Ada's ears droop. She suddenly looks up as I start eating the buttered toast from the plate.

"Medical exam!" Ada announces cheerfully.

"Eating first Ada," Thorin says gently, as he stops Ada from advancing on me. I nod my thanks to him as I keep eating. Ada and Thorin keep watching, me, but Dobby,already bored hops off of my bed and starts going around the room, his nose practically touching the carpets as he snaps his fingers and mutters. Thorin's interest wanes too though, and soon enough he goes off to investigate the kitchen. I almost want to laugh at Ada's concentration, but I manage to suppress the urge. I glance at the time clock next to my bed as I finish off the tea and feel thankful that I'd warned Thomas that I probably wouldn't be having my breakfast with everyone today because of my elves.

The Ada pounces on me - clicking her fingers and scanning the results as the appear before her. The scars from the burning that had made me leave Hogwarts aren't truly that anymore, and all of the little scrapes or bruises I'd earned myself fighting my way to Benal are the worst that happened to me. Ada sits back once she's healed them, slightly disgruntled and slightly pleased by the lack of any serious injuries.

Thorin and Dobby wander back to watch as Ada soothes away the last of the slight burns from the dragon, and for a moment they just sit there and stare at me, stupid grins on their faces.

"Come on you three," I shake my head after a moment and stretch. "I need to change into the uniform and get down to the Meeting Tree. You should come with me and meet my friends."

"Friends?" Dobby asks, an undefinable tone in him voice, and I nod. He strikes a dramatic pose then (slightly ruined by his height) and declares, "Wes'll need to approve them first. If theys wanting to hurts you, well."

"No pieces to be found there will be," Thorin mutters, and I stare at the three of them for a moment as Ada nods enthusiastically, looking to be harboring serious thoughts of slaughter. A lump form in my throat and sniff, quickly trying to wipe away my tears.

"Rafiki? Is yous good?" Thorin asks as I try to wipe away my tears.

"Fine," I say, my voice muffled slughtly by my hands. "It's just . . . no one's ever said anything like that before about me."

"The more fools they," Ada murmurs as she hands me a handkerchief. "Yous be special."

"So, where be your uniform?" Dobby asks, and I point to the door in the wall next to the bed that's almost unnoticeable from anywhere else.

"It's the tunic with the dragon," I say as Dobby opens the door and stops to stare at the wide assortment of clothing in it. It takes him a moment to drag his eyes off of the clothing, but once he does, he spots the school uniform right away, and with a snap of his fingers my clothing is switched out. I stretch slightly, and yawn and Ada and Thorin scramble off of the bed and stand so they can inspect the uniform. Truth be told, it;s the first time I've actually worn the uniform, and I glance down at it curiously, taking in the clothing.

The tunic I'd mentioned earlier is black, reaching my mid-thighs and has an image of a silver dragon twisting around it. The slacks are slack as well, and reach my ankles. While not overly impressive at first glance, the dragon moved when I blinked, and I realize after a moment that the dragon is moving like the protraits at Hogwarts did.

"It be nice," Thorin says, and I look up to see Ada and Dobby nodding in agreement. My lips twist wryly as I reply.

"It's not like I chose it."

"Take the compliment Rafiki," Ada says in exasperation, shaking her head.

* * *

I wander into the meeting hall with most of the crowd, and manage to exchange greetings with Brandr, Thomas, and Ezekiel despite clinging house elf enforced barricade. Much to my amusement, I note that almost everyone has some sort of creature clinging to them, including Thomas with what looks to be a baby tiger and an air of extreme long suffering, even as he gingerly feeds it from a bottle. Ezekiel beside him has a utterly pleased looking little humanoid that I think is a brownie, dressed in a set of brown clothes that match the hair peeking out from under its hood as it possessively grasped at Ezekiel's shirt. Brandr, looking bewildered, is sitting in the middle of a flock of phoenixes, who all coo softly at him as I sit down, shuffling their wings.

Everyone is dressed in the school robes, which look tailor made to fit them, and after a few more people drift in, the doors to the Meeting Tree silently close.

"Welcome, to a new year," a woman calls from above our heads, and everyone tilts their heads back too look up. I bring my hand up to cover my neck, feeling slightly uncomfortable with allowing it to show so much, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see many others doing the same. Above us is Adela Svera, the woman we'd met in the meeting tree when we first got here, and a man I think might be Aaron Brooke, expert in raw magic, and the oldest vampire alive today, from the descriptions that Ezekiel has given me. "Now, let's see how many of you have read up on our school history. Who are we?"

"We are the sleeping dragon!" the school roars, tills, screams, mentally shouts, communicates, and I can almost feel the - the togetherness, the sense of moving as one entity despite our race, species, gender, personality, interests, and its nice. It's the school motto, one with a long history of being proven true, especially by what was supposed to be its counterpart. The headmaster turns and leaves, following the disinterested Aaron as papers appear before us with a personalized list of classes we can take.

I quickly select my choices and tap the list to let it know I'm done. I turn to look at the others, who were just as quick, so for a moment, there;s just awkward silence as we stare at each other. I'm hyper aware of my house elves, who are all still clinging to me as they look around. I glance at Brandr and give the link sign, to which he nods in agreement, Ezekiel and Thomas copying the gesture moments later.

 _"So, who are your friends?"_ I ask Brandr, watching the phoenixes trill to each other. Behind Brandr, I can see people shooting looks at us.

 _"They are my friends,"_ Brandr said, hastily scratching one's head when it butted his fingers like a cat. My house elves, who've been silent as they cling to me peer suspiciously at the flock of phoenixes. _"I knew them before I came here, and they wanted to see how I was doing."_

"Bird brain," Dobby mutters, staring up at Brandr with wide eyes, and Brandr pears down at him, his eyes widening.

 _"Dobby?"_ I hear him ask, his mental voice faint because the words aren't directed at me. _"What are you doing here?"_

"So," Ezekiel says, looking bored. "I'm assuming you two know each other."

"Oh yes," Ada says shyly, peeking out from under my arm."Dobby is always speakings about Dobby's bird brain. I be Ada."

Thorin darts around behind my so he can peek out between Ada and me as Ezekiel and Thomas shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you," Thomas says politely. Then he lifted the baby tiger carefully onto the table. "This is Vepkhia, a tiger. I found her about a week ago when I was learning how to contact pure spirits with some of the werecats - the rusty spotted ones - and while I was trying to reach the Siberian tiger spirit to try to start on my advanced animagus, it came up to me and plopped her into my lap."

His bewilderment was evident, and I was torn between laughing and staring for a moment before opting to do the former. Ezekiel on the other hand looks shocked, and almost . . . hurt?

"A pure spirit came up to you and told you to take car of one of her children?" I snort, tearing my gaze away from Ezekiel and back to the cub.

 _"What?"_ Brandr asks, returning to the conversation as Dobbyy skips back to sit next to me with Ada. _"A pure spirit gave you their child?"_

"Yes," Thomas says, pride warring with his confusion now. "And I'm a wolf! I may not subscribe to the canine against feline nonsense, but I could have been all for it!"

His declaration is ruined when Vepkhia cries, and he immediately looks down and fusses over her.

"Oh yes," Ezekiel says sarcastically, his earlier hurt hidden. "The mighty wolf, killer of all cats young and old."

"Yes, well," Thomas sputters, trying to come up with a reply before his eyes alight upon the little person (brownie?) sitting in Ezekiel's lap. "You still haven't introduced Jeb!"

"Weak comeback," Ezekiel snorts, his gaze softening anyways as he looks back down at the creature in his lap. "Do you want to introduce yourself?"

"Yes," Jed replies, sitting a bit straighter and tugging at the hood covering his hair. "I'm Jeb, gentlemen, ladies. I'm a brownie."

"Ooo," Dobby says from beside me, standing to get a better look. "Domain?"

"Cleaning," Jeb says, his eyes sharpening as he shoots a challenging look across the table at Dobby.

"Cleaning," Dobby says with and air of indifference that doesn't affect the tension forming between them. I blink in bemusement when the two of them start tossing questions and answers back and forth, the tension increasing until I could almost swear I could see the air spark between them, and their noses were flat on the table. then suddenly and anticlimactically they both turned away simultaneously, crossed their arms, and declared, "He's alright."

I look between them for a moment, then glance around the now mostly empty Meeting Tree, and shake my head. "Good to know. Now, why don't you three introduce yourselves. You're the only ones who haven't yet."

"Oops," Dobby said, looking entirely unrepentant, even as he bowed with a flourish. "Dobby the free elf, a friend."

Ada stepped forward and curtseyed on the bench. "Ada the healer, a friend."

The Thorin, who had wandered out from behind my back stood blushing, and gave a deep bow. "Thorin, sirs. A friend."

 _"Nice to meet you,"_ Brandr says, nodding his head to the three house elves, and one of the phoenixes gave a trill. _"They say the same."_

"Yes," Thomas speaks, gently stroking Vepkhia's back. "It's nice to meet you."

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Chapter 10**

* * *

I can't stop myself from tossing and turning all night, and when I do finally get to sleep, that dream I've been having about red hair, and someone holding me comes. The quiet humming echoes in my ears as I wake up slowly.

* * *

"Why am I in Shamanism and Healing?" I mutter as I receive my schedule. "What happened to my Wandless Transfiguration and Spell Smithing?"

"You got Shamanism, Noah?" Thomas asks curiously, leaning over to look at my schedule.

"Yeah," I reply, letting him see it. "What did you get?"

"Spell Smithing, Languages, Runes, and Old Magic," he says absently, looking over my schedule. Vepkhia makes a sneezing noise, and Thomas quickly checks her before he turns back to look at his own schedule. "I didn't get my Token magic, but I honestly wasn't expecting to."

Brandr, who's sitting across from me and reading his schedule, looks up.

 _"I got everything I asked for."_

"Shamanism, Healing, Potions, and Illusions, right?" I ask, looking at him curiously.

 _"That's right. What about you, Ezekiel?"_

"Mm. I got Language, Martial Arts, Transfiguration, and Healing," Ezekiel says, poking at the scrambled eggs Thomas had put on his plate earlier. He's avoiding looking up, and sullenly lifting a bit of the eggs to is mouth occasionally.

"Are you alright?" Thomas asks, making him look up from the plate of mutilated eggs with a startled expression.

"I - yes," Ezekiel says tiredly, dropping his fork and pushing his bangs back with his right hand. "I'm fine."

"Is this about Vepkhia? Because I'm sorry -"

"It's nothing Thomas," Ezekiel interrupts, reaching out to grasp Thomas's shoulder. "Really."

He stands, and after a moment he turns and walks away from us, looking almost lost, for all that his stride was purposeful. Thomas looks down at the remaining food on his plate before pushing it away from himself as Jeb appears and grabs Ezekiel's plate.

"I'm going back to my room," he says as he stands and grabs his bag. "See you later, Noah, Brandr."

Brandr and I nod, and watch as he walks to the doors and slips out. I turn back to the table, and after a moment of staring blankly at the fruit left in my bowl, I grab the last couple of pieces and push the bowl away from me. Jeb, who had been staring at the door with a melancholy expression, turns at the sound of my bowl scraping the table, and starts gathering up the dishes again. I watch him for a moment before an idea occurs to me.

"Jeb, how long have you known Ezekiel and Thomas?"

"Oh, it must be thirteen years now for both of them," Jeb says absently as he pulls my bowl onto his dishes stack. "When they came to their families, I was just old enough to start cleaning, and so I was the one to take care of them most of the time."

"Could you tell me more about them?" I ask, and Brandr shifts uncomfortably as Jeb pauses and turns to look at me.

"That depends," Jeb says after a moment, fiddling with Ezekiel's clean spoon. "There are some things that only they can tell you."

"Why did Thomas decide to - Why didn't Ezekiel - Why didn't they both come to Tiger?"

"Ah," Jeb says, looking sad as he places the clean spoon in with the rest of the utensils. "That's one of the things I can't tell you."

"Alright," I say softly, and watch as he apparates himself and the dishes away.

* * *

The door opens, and I step into Thomas's room, looking around at the majestic shades of green that decorate the room, still in awe despite this being my second time here.

"Noah? That you?" Thomas's voice floats out from behind one of the many sheet hanging in the room.

"Yeah, it's me," I call as Thomas looks around a piece of pine green fabric. He sighs, running a hand through his short brown hair before he waves me over.

"Sorry about earlier," he says as I draw closer, and I round the swathe of fabric to see that he's sitting by a fire with Vepkhia curled up on his lap. "I just . . . couldn't stand being there any more."

"It's fine," I say, sitting on the green beanie bag across from his armchair as he absently pets Vepkhia. We both stare absently at the fire for a couple of minutes.

"Oh! I forgot!" Thomas says suddenly, making me startle, and he reaches the hand that isn't petting Vopkhia out to catch a letter flying towards him from the mantle above the fireplace.

"This came recently. It's about Remus Lupin, they found him."

"They did?" I ask, my throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah. Apparently he went to Hogwarts and got a job teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Knows absolutely nothing about werewolf society, and nothing a all about magicals outside of Europe."

"Typical European behavior," I say lightly. I glance up from the fire for a moment and catch Thomas's sympathetic look before I glance away.

"They're contacting him soon, so he'll know," Thomas says, before hesitating. "Do you have a way to look like Harry Potter again?"

"You're asking if I know how to turn myself back?" I snort. "Honestly the question is more if I'll look right if I turn myself back."

"Why?" Thomas asks curiously.

"You didn't think - well I suppose . . ."

"What is it?" Thomas asks curiously as I lean back into the beanie bag, my fingers resting in the groves left by the burns on my arm.

"Do you know why I left Europe, Thomas?"

"No one knows, I think," Thomas says softly, and I can imagine him shaking his head, though I can't see it because of my position. "All I've been able to get anyone to say is that you had an accident, and . . ."

. . .

"It was because of a Hufflepuff."

. . .

"That year, something had stared attacking the students, and by sheer madness, I was always discovered at the the scene. People got scared, and scared people are dangerous. So someone from my year found a fire spell and learned it - just for safety he said."

"Oh, no," Thomas mutters, and I can hear him shifting.

"I used to like to wander the castle, you know. Explore all of the hidden nooks and crannies, and one day I stumbled that Hufflepuff, just by coincidence. Only he didn't see it that way. You see, he was convinced that I was after him, and he used the fire spell on me."

"Oh no," Thomas says, but I continue on as if he hadn't spoken, my eyes closed against any tears.

"He used the fire spell, and it burned away - well, you can see some of what happened."

"Oh, Fenris," Thomas says and suddenly he's next to me and hugging me and I can't stop crying, gulping silently as the tears pour out.

Eventually the tears dry up though, and I'm staring up into the darkness of the tree, tear tracks running down my face. Thomas is just lying partly on the beanie bag, holding my hand from when I'd pushed him away earlier, unable to take the hug. Suddenly there's a wet cloth running over my face, and I blink at the red filling my vision.

"Brandr?" I ask, to exhausted to feel surprised as he nods, pulling back slightly. "How'd you get in here?"

"I let him in," Thomas says softly, and I turn slightly as he squeezes my hand.

"Alright," I say, my eyelid feeling heavy. "I think I'll sleep now."

"That's fine. Brandr's going to take you back to your room now," Thomas says, but I can't really concentrate around the struggle to keep my eyes open.

"Al'igh'," I murmur sleepily, my eyelids winning their fight and sliding closed. I vaguely feel someone pick me up before I fall into sleep, a warm melody following me.

* * *

"Ezekiel, we have a problem. There is no way I'm letting Noah back into Europe, even if he wants to go, for at least a decade."

"Why? What did he say?"

"You know those burn scars of his? Well, they're not just cosmetic. A Hufflepuff student from his year burned him."

"Fenris. Alright, I'll take care of things. How is he?"

"He cried himself out, and fell asleep. Brandr came, and I let him take Noah back to his room."

"Good. See you?"

". . . See you."

* * *

"Rafiki!"

"Mm," I groan into my pillow and yawn. "What is it Ada?"

"Time to get up!" Ada says, and I groan into my pillow again.

"Come on," Ada says, and with a snap I'm on top of my sheets and in the set of grey clothing I'd bought. "Up."

"I'm coming," I grumble, levering myself up and stumbling blindly across the room to collapse onto one of the chairs next to the fireplace. Someone puts their hand on my knee, and I open my eyes to see Thorin offering me a cup of tea.

"Thank you Thorin," I tell him softly as I take the cup from him, and he nods shyly before scampering away. I sigh and take a sip of it, letting the heat of it going down my throat wake me up. Thorin scampers back, this time with a plate of pancakes and strawberries, which I accept with a smile, and a nod of thanks.

I stare at the fire as I eat, and listen to the house elves bustle around trying to find any flecks of dust left, or apparating in and preserving various foods. When I'm done, Dobby takes away my dirty dishes, humming happily as he walks away.

"Rafiki," Ada says, and I turn to look at her. "Coulds we go to your other houses and clean them too?"

"I have other houses?" I ask, startled, and Ada nods. I blink, still surprised, but I nod. "Go ahead. I - could you bring me a list of what houses I have? And while you three are cleaning, could you take pictures?"

"Of course Rafiki!" Ada says happily, snapping and making a piece of paper appear. "Here's the list!"

Then she apparated away and left me to stare at the list. I glance at the clock on the mantle before I decide to wander downstairs and find Thomas, Ezekiel or Brandr. I glance over the list again as I step into the elevator and the doors close behind me. There are six different houses, which is more than I've ever dreamed of, and each of them are on a different continent. The first on the list, and the oldest, is in a place called Godric's Hollow. The notes next to the house's name describe it as a small cottage, and note that though part of it is destroyed, most of it is in pretty good condition due to the preserving spells from the wards.

There's one in North America, Lazy Dragons, and I recognize it as the one I'd been staying in for the past eight months. It's up by the sea in Northern California, with a small private cove, and small dragons sunning themselves on the rocks when the sun is shining. The paper notes that before my habitation, the house hadn't been used for at least a century.

In South America, there's one down in Chile on one of the little islands around Cape Horn called Witches Moon. It's protected by a large variety of wards, but hasn't been used for at least a century as well.

In Africa, there's a small cottage in the Sahara Desert, used by various tribes that live there. It's made to withstand sandstorms, and is also protected by a large variety of wards, those these are slightly different as they allow the tribes to enter. It's called Lleh Ydnas apparently.

In Australia, there's a small house at the edge of the Karlamilyi National Park, which has been unused for at least a century, like Witches Moon, and is called Polvale.

And in Siberia, there's what amounts to a fortress, somewhere. It's called Acingle, and also hasn't been used in a century.

I look up from the paper as I exit the lobby, and decide to make for the Meeting Tree.

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Chapter 11**

* * *

"Noah!" someone calls, making me turn. Ezekiel's hurrying down the path towards the Meeting Tree. "Wait up!"

"Hi," I say as he draws even with me and slows down to match my pace as I start walking.

"I'm sorry," he says as we walk towards the Meeting Tree. "For yesterday."

"What about it?" I ask. "You weren't feeling good, so you left."

We turn slightly off the path, and I catch Ezekiel flashing me a disbelieving glance, his dark braid swaying as he shakes his head. "What?"

"You!" he exclaims. "You don't take offense at anything - almost anything."

"Almost anything?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Um," Ezekiel says, blushing slightly, and I smile as I turn back to looking at the trees around us. "Thomas told me last night. About your- um, the Hufflepuff."

"That's what I thought," I murmur, my fingers digging into my arm. I could have removed the scars but-

"Hey, don't worry," Ezekiel says, and I turn to him, slightly startled. "I have quite literally seen slime monsters marry vela."

My mouth twitches into a smile as I turn to look before I nod at him. "Thanks."

"Like I said, I'm sorry," Ezekiel repeats.

"I did hear you the first time," I say wryly as I turn so we're heading back towards the Meeting Tree again. "Come on, let's meet Brandr and Thomas before we have to get to classes."

* * *

"Brandr?" I ask, and the red head turns, his face lighting up as he sees me.

 _"Noah!"_ he says happily, but my attention isn't on the connection, but rather on Brandr's appearance.

"Brandr, why do you look like a girl?" I ask hesitantly, and Brandr looks down at the shirt pulling over a set of what are defiantly breasts before he shrugs.

 _"I was renewed last night, and my body decided to change,"_ (s)he says. I blink, but before I can say anything Ezekiel laughs.

"What?" I asks, following his gaze to find his eyes fixed on Brandr - his- erm, her breasts.

"Nothing," Ezekiel says, a smile pulling at his lips. "Nothing at all."

"Is this regular?" I ask Brandr, and (s)he nods with a smile.

"Come on, you should sit down," Thomas calls. I automatically look around for Vepkhia as I pull out a chair to sit down on. "So, Brandr, Noah, how do you think you'll do in the animagus class?"

"I've found my minor animagus, so I won't be behind in that respect," I say, leaning back in my chair.

 _"My current for is a sort of minor animagus, so I am ready for trying to obtain my intermediate animagus form,"_ Brandr says simply, fiddling with a lock of her hair. _"Aura reading is a natural attribute of my race, so I am not required to take that class."_

"Really?" I asks. "What are you then, if I might ask?"

 _"You may ask, but I cannot answer,"_ Brandr says, throwing me a smirk. _"And yes, I am naturally an aura reader, do you not remember how I introduced myself?"_

"Ah yes, you came up to me out of nowhere and asked to be my friend?" I tease, making her blush.

"Wait, you really just came up to him?" Ezekiel asks incredulously, as snorts in amusement when Brandr nods, ducking her head. "You realize that that sounds like preschool right?"

 _"Yes, I am quite aware,"_ Brandr replies. There's a whisper of something else along the link, but it's clear that the thought isn't meant for me, so I ignore it as Ezekiel shakes his head in amusement.

"Are you going to take another class in the place of your Aura reading class?" Thomas asks before we can continue on that track, and Brandr gives him a smile before she replies.

 _"No, I have something else I'm planning on doing with my extra time,"_ she says, ignoring Ezekiel as he mouths something at her. Before we can say anything though, the sound of twinkling bells fills the air, making us look up.

"Come on," Ezekiel says, pushing his chair back and standing. "Time for classes. First up is D&D, they put everyone in a year in one class."

* * *

I exit the class, and pick my way through the tree roots thoughtfully as I head to my next class, Thomas moving silently beside me.

Professor Rory's class had been interesting, to say the least. He'd seemed absent minded right up until he'd pointed out several flaws in the disguises he had us put together in thirty minutes.

It took me less than thirty seconds to pull together a disguise from what I remembered of the Disguise book Ada had given me back in February, and by the time Rory had finished writing the instructions on the board, I had the physical aspect down, and spent the thirty minutes he'd given us coming up with a backstory to match. The teacher's eyes had lingered on me, huddled in a set of threadbare and hole-filled clothes, looking around myself in awe.

I'd smoothed the scars back into untouched skin, then brought up the multitude of scars that a street kid would get. I'd also darkened and shortened my hair, and darkened my eyes so I looked like nothing more than a street kid. It took me even less time to pull the disguise apart, the alterations shimmering and breaking as I waved my wand slightly to undo the charm that had altered them.

I blink and bring myself back to the present with a shake as Thomas and I stop outside of another set of doors.

"You good to go?" Thomas asks, and I nod. Ezekiel, having finished his requisite year of Aura reading when he'd entered, had decided to not take another class to fill the spot. Brandr, with her species exemption was also dismissed from this class, and had stayed behind in Disguise and Deception to ask Professor Rory something.

Thomas pushes the doors open, and we walk into the classroom.

* * *

On the other side of the world, a werewolf paces restlessly in his chambers, looking at the letter sitting open on his desk once in a while in disbelief.

It wasn't like the packs hadn't tried to make contact with him before, he well remembered his father reading letters with the same seal one them throughout his childhood, but they'd slowed to a stop, and after one letter sent directly to him after he'd graduated from Hogwarts, they hadn't contacted him again.

(In all honesty, if they's contacted him during any of the ten years before Harry had disappeared, he would have gone to them without a second thought, hoping someone could help, but it seemed they'd given up after he'd failed to answer their last letter.)

But that was only half the reason for his disbelief. If it had been a normal letter, asking him to join the pack, he would have sent a polite refusal once again, but instead they were claiming that they had found Harry, and insisting that they needed to speak with him, no matter what.

He wanted to send back a snarling reply, asking them why they were only contacting him now . . . but they said they knew where Harry was, and after Albus had finally admitted that he didn't know where harry was, Remus had clung to every hint of him he could find. He had been able to keep going, knowing that Harry was alive, and when the information about the petrification came out, he was able to hold himself back.

But when he'd found out that Harry had gone missing, he had stormed into Albus's office and demanded to speak with him. After a loud yelling session with the Headmaster, he'd gone to Minerva and asked for a job as a janitor, like Filch. A few stamped pieces of paperwork later, and he was home free with a salary, room, and board. He'd done his own investigations, quietly searching around the castle, and making friends with the students, but it was a week before he found out that Harry hadn't just disappeared, he'd done it after being burned by a Hufflepuff. There was another screaming session with Albus before he disappeared into the bowels of the castle, fuming as he cleaned secret hallways and discreetly got food from the elves.

He only noticed the start of summer by the lack of students talking and walking outside the secret passages, and it was a month before Minerva asked the elves to bring him to her the next time he came to them for food. She'd given his a long looking over with a raised brow, which made him look over himself self consciously, and quickly use a couple of cleaning spells to clean the grime of the secret passages off of himself. They'd talked, and she'd convinced him to at least check in with her once a week, so she'd know he hadn't fallen off a cliff or down a staircase of something. It wasn't until their meeting the week before school started that she'd expressed concerns about finding a new Defense professor, and to his surprise, he'd volunteered.

He shook his head and returned to the present throwing another glance a the letter sitting on his desk before he sat down and rubbed his face.

Then he pulled open his drawer and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen.

 _It's not like there was any way I would have decided differently_ , he thought darkly as he penned a reply to the pack. He closed the envelope with a sigh, and after a moment of hesitation, he pulled out the only thing from the pack that his father had let him keep, and pressed it into the quickly cooling wax. He glanced over the seal once before he tucked it into his coat pocket and exited his room to head for the owlery. The seal pressed into the wax flashed once, and was still.

* * *

I glance sideways as Thomas frowns, and starts patting his pockets, muttering to himself, before he pulls out a small medallion with something I can't see imprinted upon it, and quickly drops it onto his desk.

"What's that?" I ask, moving the meditation instructions slightly to the side and leaning so that I can look closer at the medallion. It has a rudimentary picture of a wolf sketched in a few lines, and the runic symbols gebo, wunjo, and othala inscribed in repeating patterns around the edge.

"It's connected to the seal we sent to Remus Lupin," Thomas says, a smile spreading across his face. "It means that he used the seal that was sent to him when the pack first contacted him, and has at least partly acknowledged that he has some connection to us."

"Why do you have it?" I ask, looking up from the seal.

"I have no idea," Thomas says. "I can't believe that they let me even see it, normally the elders are the only ones allowed to see the seals."

"Early recruitment program?" I ask lightly, a laugh bubbling up my throat as I look Tomas up and down. "Or are you an elder? Maybe they've figured out how to make people younger finally?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Thomas says, pushing my shoulder. Then he looked down at the seal. "I have to send the elders a message."

"Go," I tell him with a smile. "Don't forget to tell the teacher why you're leaving."

"Pack politics," Thomas says as he stands. "Blerg. I left Benal to get out of that mess."

I look up, startled, but Thomas is gone before I can say anything. I look back down as the medallion before I slip it into my pocket. Then I look back down at the meditation instructions and sigh. Might as well get back to searching for aura sight.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Chapter 12**

* * *

After Aura Reading comes Fighting, and when I show up to the specified tree, I find myself herded into a group of people, and after asking around, it isn't hard to figure out that we're all of the students at Tiger with last names beginning with Q and on. The teacher comes pretty quickly, and soon has us in a neat formation. He explains that while this is fighting class, we first have to get into shape. I can see the older students grinning at each other from the corner of my eyes, and combined with the teacher's word, I have a sneaking suspicion that I know exactly what the teacher's going to say next.

"We're going to be doing laps," he announces with a gleeful glint to his eye. "Follow the red flags, first one to finish one lap doesn't have to do a second."

He looks at us expectantly as I thank the pure spirits for Oliver Wood and Thorin. "What are you waiting for?"

Immediately the crowd surges forward, and the oldest students take shameless advantage of their longer legs to sprint before the rest of us, and soon the crowd thins out as the slowest drop behind, and the fastest runners draw ahead.

I wasn't expecting to be first, not against the older kids, and especially not against the many other creatures I can see here that are most definitely stronger than a wizard, but I manage to make pretty good time, finishing the second lap just in time to cross the lap marker with the last of the runners on their first lap.

Lunch after that is blurry, the teacher forcing a bottle of water and a plate with bread slathered with cheese into my hand.

* * *

Healing, after lunch, turns out to be not that bad. Ezekiel and Brandr are also in my class, but I don't manage to talk to them before the teacher stats talking. The first class taught is purely wand magic, and is about a few spells we can use before we learn the actual healing. We go into the theory behind the spells a bit, and practice them on various students who wander into our class room.

Once we have the spells down, the teacher explains that while he will not be teaching us how to heal the way typical healers do, that's only because his way is better. All of the other schools of healing solely teach wand spells, charms, which requires you to memorize a charm for each specific condition, and know how to reverse each individual hex and curse. His way of teaching allows you heal something, even if you don't know what it is, but helping the body go back to the way it's supposed to be. He tells us that for certain things, there is only so much that this way of healing can do because the body does not know how it's supposed to be, especially in cases like genetic defects, but for practical purposes the way he teaches helps much more than the traditional way.

He also explains that he has heard of others solving genetic defects by using another person of the same species without the problem and teaching the body that the way it's supposed to be is like that, but it is not something he has experienced for himself.

* * *

"What do any of you actually know about Runes?" the teacher asks, pacing in front of the class. Her sharp red eyes sweep over us, and no one dares to raise their hands and draw her attention to them. After a moment, she smiled, revealing teeth that couldn't quite be considered sharp. "Good. What ever you _do_ know, and aren't saying because of me, forget it. It's most likely false, or at the very least misleading."

She turns and taps the white board behind her, an image suddenly appearing on it, one I recognize because I was idolized for it the past few years.

"Tell me, what does this symbol mean? Raise your hand now, don't be shy," she says, pausing slightly, and Myf, one of the wolf types people in our year that Ezekiel introduced me to, hesitantly raises her hand. "Yes! You!"

"That's a lightning bolt. It can stand for speed, light, fire, or electricity."

"Good," the teacher says, brushing a stray strand of her short hair behind her ear, and pointing at the boy sitting on my other side. "You."

"Um, it's Sowilo, meaning sun, from Elder Futhanrk," he says. "It is meant to sound like s."

"You!" The teacher points at me.

"It's associated with the only known instance of a wizard surviving the European Killing Curse, as a scar on the survivor," I say, and I can practically feel the others in the class turn to look at me. The teacher gives me a vaguely amused smile as she nods.

"Exactly. You!" The girl to my left looks embarrassed a the sudden attention.

"I-i-it's a symbol f-for a break," she stutters. "B-because of-of th-the jag-jaged-edness."

"And lastly you!" the teacher points at the girl in the corner, who looks up from doodling in her notebook.

"It's what ever you make of it," the girl says. "It can be lightning for speed, or sowilo, or a break, or the symbol of someone who survived something, or even a zigzag for madness or indecisiveness."

"Good," the teacher says, smiling. "That's exactly it. And that is why Runes is so hard. That is why I am telling you to forget what ever it is you have learned. All other schools of thought about runes hold that only their way is true, and that their symbols only mean one thing, but each of you thought of a separate meaning."

She pauses and looks around at us. "Your home work tonight is to make a symbol, and give it a meaning. Do what ever you want, love, hate, sleep, atoms, what ever. Just make it something you can draw in a few seconds."

* * *

And finally comes Faeri Magic, a half-whimsical name for a branch of magic that is supposed to be solely for children. I find myself in a part of the forest that I haven't explored yet, a tree near the center which is larger than I thought possible for trees to grow. Of course this is Benal Raven, all carved from a single tree, with the tree still alive and ready to defend it's inhabitants.

Back to Faeri Magic, it is exactly like the species it was named after. Whimsical seeming until you get too close. then is becomes dangerous and easily able to do great harm. The first lesson I get is how to light a candle by blowing on it. That passes quickly, and the second lesson I get is how to create a little ball of fire to see by.

I quickly pick that up, and the teacher shows me, and the other small kids who also finished it quickly that we can manipulate the shape of the flame and make different things. We watch in fascination as she shapes her ball into a small bird that flies around the room a few times before flying back to her and seemingly dissolving into a puddle in her hands. Then she formed it into words, and using a small branch, shows us how to burn images and letters into the wood. Then she smiles at us and shapes the flames into a thin circle, and proceeds to do cat's cradle with it.

Then she turns us loose to practice on our own.

* * *

"Hey Noah," Ezekiel greets me, sitting down next to me. I look up from the small ball of fire I'm playing with a give him a slight nod before I turn back to the fire. An hour after learning it, I'm still trying to make it into a bird. "Do you know where Thomas is? He wasn't in Language. I didn't see him in Fighting, but I assumed that was because we were in alphabetical order."

"He left during Aura Reading to contact the elders," I tell him as Brandr sits down next to me. "Remus Lupin's seal medallion activated."

 _"How was your Runes class?"_ Brandr asks, tugging slightly on her shirt.

"It was really interesting," I reply enthusiastically. "I've already learned some about Runes, but this went more in depth, and it's just the first class."

"What do you mean seal medallion?" Ezekiel asks with a frown. "I'm pretty sure that only the elders are allowed to see those."

"Congratulations," I say sarcastically, dragging the medallion out of my pocket and dangling it before Ezekiel's disbelieving eyes. "What ever shall you do now, wise elder?"

"What?" Ezekiel yelps, grabbing for the medallion. I let him have it and turn back to Brandr, who looks amused at Ezekiel's incredulity.

"So, do you have much homework?" I ask, and she turns her attention back to me.

* * *

Remus rubbed his face with a tired hand. He was slightly regretting his decision to send off the letter last night, but the wolf had been much calmer. It had never settle down after James, Peter, and - James and Peter had died, but it had gradually become less harmful. But for the past nine months, it had become much more restless again, pacing and throwing itself a the doors and windows trying to getoutgetoutgetout where'spup Ineedtofindpup. But tonight, while it had paced, most of its attention was focused on the windows, searching desperately for any owl sent in reply.

Remus groaned slightly as he sat up and went to the door that the wolf had thrown itself against many times as it tries to get out, and it open with ease under his human hand, prompting a snarl of frustration from the wolf in the back of his mind.

"Remus Lupin," a voice suddenly called, and he jerked, looking frantically around the room, the darkness obscuring everything from view. He quickly pulled his clothes on, and pulled his wand out. He was about to relax and turn to the potions Pomfrey had let him when the voice spoke up again. "Remus Lupin."

"Who is it?" Remus asked, eyes moving from side to side.

"I'm Thomas Rodgers, from the packs," the voice spoke up again, and suddenly there was a flash of light as the candle flared into life. The wavering light revealed a young teen with short brown hair and amber eyes. "I'm here to escort you to the meeting."

"What about Harry?" Remus asked immediately. "How is he? Does he need any help?"

There was a pause before Thomas spoke as he stared at Remus, his eyes flat in the candle light and revealing nothing. "Harry is fine. He doesn't need any help right now, but he is part of the reason we need to talk to you."

"He's not in trouble is he?" Remus asked, swaying slightly as a shift of his weight reminded him of the injuries he'd gotten.

"He's fine, well and truly," Thomas said softly. "I swear to Fenris that I'm doing all I can to help him."

"Thank you," Remus said, casting a glance at the potions Pomfrey had left. "So how are you getting me to the meeting?"

"Like this," Thomas said, and Remus looked up to see the end of a wand -

Darkness.

* * *

Thomas sighed as he left his wand slip back into it's protected pocket in his pants. It was the first time he'd needed it in weeks, and he shrugged off the guilt that came over him at using it to knock someone out. Lupin had avoided the rest of his species for years, it may be a bit later than most, but this was the standard ceremony.

 _Look at me,_ Thomas snorted to himself as he knelt and carefully picked up the tall werewolf. _I sound like a cultist or something._

He sighed as he stood and called out softly, "Jeb."

Jeb appeared in the silence that comes naturally to him, and looks Thomas up and down. "You need to sleep more."

"I know," Thomas sighed. "How was Vepkhia?"

"She was fine," Jeb repiles with a shadow of a smile. "She started missing you after an hour. I think she escaped."

"And that's good news?" Thomas asked, a smile on his face despite his disbelief."

"But of course," Jed replied. "It means that she's developing magic."

"Good," Thomas said. "Will you please take us to the Enclave?"

"Of course," Jeb sighed, holding out a hand which Thomas firmly clasped. The slight wind of air rushing to fill a vacuum blew out the candle on the desk.

Then there was darkness.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Chapter 13**

* * *

"Noah," Thomas greets me, sliding onto the bench next to me, dark circles under his eyes. Ezekiel looks up from his Transfiguration book for a moment to regard Thomas before he looks back down, and Brandr looks up. She frowns slightly and reaches out to touch his shoulder, a slight burst of magic clearing away some of his sleepiness.

"Thanks Brandr," he smiles at her, and she shakes her finger at him. "Yes, yes, I won't come to you for everything now, I get it."

She gives him a smile at this, and returns to her book, flicking a long strand of red hair behind her shoulder absently as Thomas turns to me.

"We contacted him," he starts, absently biting into a piece of toast that I force into his hand and swallowing. "He wants to see you - the sooner the better. Do you think you can come with me any time soon?"

"I can come after sixth period," I offer, and Thomas frowns, probably doing the time conversions in his head, and he nods after a moment.

"That should work," he says, sighing into the second slice of toast I put into his hand. "If you don't mind, how do you plan to change yourself back into Harry Potter?"

"I can't tell you," I say grinning as Ezekiel and Brandr look up. "Guess."

"Is this form an Animagus form?" Ezekiel asks, perking up, his attention leaving the book in front of him entirely.

"Nope," I say. "These are my real scars."

Brandr looks slightly startled at that, reaching out to put a hand on my arm. I flinch away before I can stop myself, and she hesitates for a moment before withdrawing her hand and offering her theory. _"Is 'Harry Potter' your minor Animagus?"_

I shake my head, trying to ignore her reaction to my flinch. "That's not it either."

"Are you reversing what ever spells you have that changed you?" Thomas guesses.

"No," I reply, my mirth gone as I watch Brandr return to reading her book. Thomas seems to catch my mood because he shakes his head.

"I'll get it, just you wait," he says lightly. I shake my head and tilt it back so that I'm looking up at the ceiling, absently contemplating the changes in my life recently. I frown and let my chin swing back down to look at Ezekiel, who's reading his book again, and Thomas, who'd taken a book of his own out of his bag.

"There was a full moon last night, wasn't there?" I ask, making the two werewolves look up.

"Yeah," Ezekiel shrugs. "It's not that big of a deal. Most just change and curl up with their pack."

"Thomas, you were with the elders last night weren't you?" I state, and Ezekiel looks up sharply.

Before the he can say anything though, the sound of twinkling bells fills the air, making us look up. I stand and shoulder my back pack with a quick shrug.

"Alright I'm off," I say. "Come on you three."

 _"To animagus class we go,"_ Brandr mutters, pulling the strap of her satchel over her head.

* * *

The class is . . . interesting to say the least. Like Disguise and Deception, we're lumped with everyone in our year, and because of the topic, there is a large amount of animals around under some spell so they can't hurt anything so that people can get an idea of what they want to become.

There are also people wandering around with an animal, part or all of their body charmed to match. Ezekiel disappears somewhere as I look around, and I catch Thomas diving into the crowd after something, leaving me to stand awkwardly next to Brandr. Brandr is looking around with a half amused smile on her face, but her fingers are tight around my wrist.

"Come on!" she says after a moment as we look around. "I think I saw a Zhenniao over there!"

I laugh, but let her pull my through the crowd, ducking under long arms and jumping over low slinking beasts, calling apologies as we go. When we finally stop, I start laughing, the sound coming out oddly between my panting breaths. I smile at Brands before I look up at the bird we'd chased. It looks rather like a goose, but it's coloring - a red beak, purple and dark green fathers - show that it's not.

"Hello," I say quietly, reaching a hand out like I would to one of Mrs. Figg's cats. The bird regards my hand for a moment before it leans forward and nudges it. I blink t it, and glance sideways at Brandr who's watching it in fascination before it nudges my hand again, rubbing like Mrs. Figg's cats had when they wanted a scratch.

"She likes you," someone says, and I look up from the Zhenniao leaning into my scratches like a cat to see a woman with long black hair and tan skin smiling at me. She nods at the Zhenniao as she speaks again. "Most of the time, Jie refuses to have anything to do with people. This is the first time I've seen her willingly let someone touch her."

"Thank you," I say after a moment, slightly startled, and the woman nods before she turns to regard Brandr.

"And who was it that brought you here?" she asks her and Brandr gives a slightly shrug, her fingers tightening on my wrist slightly. It's obvious that they're talking from that way the woman's eyes flicker, but she gives away nothing as she slowly smiles. "Yes, of course."

Brandr nods decisively, in the way that probably would have been accompanied by a "Good." had she spoken out loud, and the woman turns to me.

"Noah, my name is Ayita, and I am of the Nunehi, a race much like fairies of your lands," she says. "It is nice to meet you."

"I am Noah Reis, of the English Wizard, a peoples I have found very stupid," I say after a moment, mirroring her introduction. "It's nice to meet you as well."

 _"Good,"_ Brandr says, making me look back at her. _"Noah, Ayita is an old friend of mine. She'll help you if you need it."_

There's a moment where I process that before I sigh. "I don't know if I should be glad that you guys are introducing my to people you trust, or saddened by your lack of faith in my skills to handle myself."

"Glad that they're introducing you of course," Ayita says immediately, brushing as hand down her baggy blue jeans. I startle when suddenly there's a loud squawk, temporarily silencing the sound in our area as everyone looks at us before I hasten to return my attention to Jie. The Zhenniao makes happy chirping sound as I lightly run a hand down her neck.

The bell rings, and I look up with a frown. The hour had seemed far to short.

"Run along now you two," Ayita says with a smile. "I'll take care of Jie."

 _"Thank you, Ayita,"_ Brandr says, nodding at her. Ayita smiles back and holds out her arms for a hug, which Brandr steps into.

"It was my pleasure," Ayita murmurs into her hair before she steps back. "Come, let me braid your hair some time."

 _"I will,"_ Brandr replies, and we turn to go, Jie squawking slightly behind me before Ayita steps up to her. _"Come on, we've got Shamanism next."_

"I know," I say, a smile pulling at my lips.

* * *

"Remus Lupin," a voice says, pulling him out of sleep with a start. His eyes flick open instantly and he immediately looks around for the. speaker, only to find himself surrounded by emotionless faces. "You have accepted the guidance of the Packs. Once again, we will ask you. Will you come to us with your problems? Will you follow our instructions as far as you can?"

Remus blinked, still feeling slightly disorientated, but the words struck something deep inside him, as if he had been waiting to hear them his whole life.

"I will come to you with my problems. I will follow your instructions as far as I can," he said, the worlds coming from him almost without his knowledge of them.

"Then we accept you. May the moon give you peace, and and allow you no terror. What is ours is yours should you wish it."

The faces around him smiled, before many of the men and women got up and wandered away. Remus blinked again, looking around in confusion before a woman in what looked to be her thirties came up to him.

"Hello," she smiled at him. "It's nice to see you awake. You looked rather terrible when you first came in."

"Where am I?" Remus asked looking around as he straightened in his chair. "What just happened?"

"Hey," the woman said snapping chocolate brown fingers under is nose to bring his attention back to her. "Don't worry. You're at the Enclave, then Pack's home. What just happened is that you were accepted into the Pack community. You should expect some of the younger children to come to you soon and ask to join your pack now."

"Alri- my pack?" Remus said, turning to focus on the woman. "And who are you?"

"My name is Martha, Martha Smith," the woman said with a smile. "And as for your pack, that can wait for a moment. Let's get you dressed first."

"Dressed?" Remus asked, looking down at his clothes. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Well for one thing, they're shabby," Martha said with a grin, holding out a hand, which he took absently to help himself up. "And for another thing, they're way to delicate. Besides, you're not going to turn down free clothing are you?"

"Er - no," Remus muttered as he looked down at his clothes. Sure they were shabby, but he'd managed fine with them for a good ten years now.

"Good," Martha nodded decisively. "This way now."

* * *

"So in recap, _I'm_ supposed to be the leader of a pack now, and every one is hoping that _you're_ expected to become my wife, or at the very least my partner in all of this?" Remus asked incredulously, hands tugging absently on the sleeve hems of his new jacket. Apparently, while his old clothes had technically fit, sleeves were supposed to be at least an inch longer.

"Exactly," Martha nodded. She set the pile of clothes they'd gathered on a bed in the plain room. "I'm glad you finally accepted that you're a werewolf, it's much harder to run a pack along from what I've heard, and I wasn't looking forward to trying. Remus set down another pile of clothes on the bed as well before he sat himself down.

"Well," he said. "I didn't expect anything like this."

"Thought we were a bunch of fanatical people who reveled in being as uncivilized as possible?"

"Not exactly," Remus said. "But close."

'Well, considering that we very much are the wolves, we very much do need a pack," Martha replied. "It's also very nice. There's a support system to fall back upon if you need or want it, and a place to transform where you don't have to worry."

"I almost wish I came here earlier," Remus whispered, letting himself flop back to stare at the ceiling.

* * *

Shamanism was interesting. It honestly seemed more like a religion than anything else, but with the added bonus of actually having the "deities" respond. The first lesson was one on how to contact the pure spirit, the embodiment of all a species was and occasionally all they could be, your own species. Other species are supposed to be much harder to contact, but after the meditation training from Aura Reading yesterday, I find that it isn't as hard for me to concentrate on the state of mind that the teacher describes. I don't quite get there, but I do go deep enough into my meditation that Brandr has to shake my to get me back to consciousness when the bell for the next class rings.

After Shamanism comes Fighting again. We fall into the formation the teacher had specified on the first day when people notice the older student's positions, and the teacher gives us a momentary look over before he calls out that we're to do one lap following the same route we took yesterday before meeting him again for some exercises. When I finish the lap, I quickly drop to the ground net to one of the other kids to start on the exercises that the teacher shouts out. There's so many sit ups and push ups, and other activities that my head spins, but I manage to get them done in good time, and I eat my lunch watching those who hadn't finished yet.

Thomas sits down next to me about half way through lunch, giving me a brief grin.

"Hey," I say, and he smiles at me.

"Hey," he replies after hastily swallowing the food he had in his mouth. We stay silent for the rest of lunch, and split ways after, waving before we turn away.

Healing is nice again, though we don't get to try the way that the teacher described yesterday, instead practicing the spells on some of the Zombie students who had a free period. Their bodies are technically dead, so they can't heal on their own, but they will die again if they get too badly injured.

Runes comes next, and I show the teacher the symbol I'd drawn absently on a napkin at dinner. The rune itself is pretty simple, two 's's that intersect with a dot between the sides that almost touch. I'd been thinking of calling absence on account of my state of mind while I drew it, but I'd changed my mind last minute and named it acceptance instead. The teacher looks it over with her sharp red eyes, and gives me a smile when I tell her the meaning.

"That's a pretty powerful concept, Noah," she says, tracing a finger over the symbol sitting on the paper. "Good job."

After Runes is Faeri Magic again, and we learn how to create little animals to use as night lights, which can also be used as messengers, called patronuses. The animals are supposed to be based off of a happy memory, and lots of the children smile at that. Half an hour later, I'm sitting there, frowning at my hands as little silver animals the size of my palm fly around me, and the teacher comes over, a little unicorn galloping along behind her.

"Hey," she says, settling down next to me and flicking a strand of her brown hair over her shoulder. "You having trouble?"

"Yes," I grumble angrily. "I have happy memories, but when ever I try to use them, all I get is a little bit of silver mist."

"That's actually pretty good for someone your age who's trying this for the first time," the teacher says, making me look at her startled. She smiles at me and holds her hand out to her unicorn, who had been frolicking in mid air with a couple of the other patronuses. It comes to her at her call, and nuzzles her hand before settling down on the table in front of us. "The older someone is when they learn how to make a patronus, the harder it is for them. By the time some one's an adult, it's almost impossible to learn."

"Oh?" I ask, leaning forward to look at the little unicorn patronus, who lets out a silent whinny.

"Yes," the teacher says, and I catch her smile as I look up. "Maybe I should tell you more about it. That seems to help older children. Let's see. Well, the patronus is used, as you know, as a night light, and a messenger. In the Americas, many parents leave their patronus with their child every night. Other than being a night light, because of the patronus's basis in happy memories, they also act as a sort of dream catcher, only instead of trapping the bad dreams they encourage the good dreams. The form of your patronus is thought to be a representation of something that protects you, and is usually connected to your parents in some way, their Animagus form, or an animal that reminds you of them. While many people have just one patronus form, it isn't unheard of for someone to have multiple patronuses. A person's patronus can change over the course of their life. Does any on that help?"

I blink, going over the information she'd just told me, and a thought flashes through my mind. I hold my hand out and think of this summer. I think of Dobby and Ada and Thorin, and Ezekiel and Thomas and Brandr. And I think of Fawkes, beautiful Fawkes, who fought a basilisk with me, who somehow saved me, even though it's impossible to cure a basilisk's poison. And in a small corner of my mind, I think of the dreams I've been having of that boy, with red hair and tan skin who soothes my pain. I think of them, and I let my magic pool in my hand, a silver mist starting to form. Then suddenly the magic moves without my conscious decision, and the mist coalesces in my palm to form a small phoenix.

The phoenix tilts its head, then opens its beak to let out what I know would be a warbling trill before it flaps its wings and flies up to land on my shoulder, nuzzling my cheek.

"It's beautiful," my teacher says making me look up at her. There's a sort of awe in her voice as she watches the phoenix preen himself on my shoulder.

"Thank you," I say, giving her a smile. "The other information did help."

She nods absently, her eyes still fixed on the phoenix, who is most definitely Fawkes. I can see what she means about the patronuses encouraging good dreams, because I feel lighter now. Fawkes . . . Fawkes had protected me from the Basilisk, fought against it for and with me, then he'd cured me even though I was impossible. I may not have seen him in forever, but he's the first person to have really fought to protect me. The teachers had to protect me, but even so they didn't believe me when I told them that something dangerous was about to happen, and sent me away. Ron and Hermione were great, but it always seemed that they never got to the end with me.

I don't manage to complete the second half of the lesson today, not wanting to even think about sending Fawkes off, and the teacher smiles at me as I leave with Fawkes still on my shoulder.

I slide onto the bench of the table my group had claimed, and wait for Thomas. Brandr finds me first, and her eyes fixate of the silvery Fawkes on my shoulder.

 _"Hello,"_ she says, her red braid swaying as she sits down across from me. "I see that you've found your patronus. Do you know who it represents?"

 _"Yeah,"_ I reply in kind, watching as Fawkes flutters over to Brandr, and opens his mouth to make some sound before nuzzling her slightly. " _He's Fawkes. Fawkes was a phoenix who helped me fight off a basilisk last year."_

 _"That's amazing,"_ Brandr says softly, lightly brushing a finger down Fawkes's spine. We both look up as Thomas comes up to the table, Ezekiel following him with a disgruntled look on his face.

"Alright Noah, are you ready?" Thomas asks, looking my up and down.

"I have to change first," I say, gesturing at my face and hair. "I can go looking like this."

"Right," Thomas says, looking around. "Can you do it here?"

"No," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Dobby! Take me up to my room please!"

There's a shark crack like a stick breaking before I appear in my room with Dobby giving me a hug. "Hello Rafiki!"

"Hi Dobby," I smile down at him. "I'm need to change forms now, so you might want to stand back."

"Oky doky!" Dobby says, scampering back a couple of feet. I smile at him before I let myself fall though the forms, and back into humanoid for before I can fall.

"Can I have a mirror Dobby?" I ask, and Dobby smiles at me, quickly turning only to pop back up with a body length mirror. I quickly check my face, but nothing has changed since the last time I slipped into this form, and I shiver slightly at the sight of the scar once again gracing my forehead. "Alright Dobby, I'm done."

"Is Rafiki okay," Dobby asks after snapping to vanish the mirror, and I manage to smile at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say. "There's just something I have to be Harry Potter to do."

"And Rafiki doesn't like being Harry Potter," Dobby finishes my much repeated phrase. "Back to the others now?"

"Yeah," I say, tugging slightly on my shirt. "Back to the others."

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Chapter 14**

* * *

I tug slightly on the bottom of my shirt as Thomas pulls me into a room off to the side of the Meeting Tree. Before us is a desk with the orange haired man I met in the Meeting Tree on the first day, Zion.

"Thomas," he calls as we approach him, as smile on his face. "Going home?"

"Yes Zion," Thomas says bluntly. "The door?"

"Right over there," Zion nods lazily. "This about that new alpha they found? The one neck deep in Wizarding Britain? It is, isn't it?"

"Ignore him," Thomas mutters, and I nod, letting him pull me to the door that had been indicated.

"So, you found Harry Potter then?" Zion asks as Thomas pulls the door open, and I glance back at him before Thomas pushes me into the room and closes the door behind me.

"Shut up, Zion," I can hear Thomas say from behind the door. "You may be over a thousand years old, but you are a vampire. You are not allowed to be involved in our internal affairs, so stop asking me."

"Thomas, you disappeared for two years. No one had any ideas where you were. Ezekiel was panicking, though he tried not to let you see it. Did you see the classes that he's taking?"

"I saw them," Thomas says.

"Well, why do you think he was taking those? You were _gone_ , Thomas."

There's a pause.

"Leave Harry alone. He's been through a lot." The door opens and Thomas slides into the room, his brown hair covering his eyes. "Come on. Let's go."

"What is this?" I ask, turning to the doorway behind me.

"It's a gate," Thomas explains as we step up to it. It looks into a room looking much like the one we're in no, but something about it makes me uncomfortable. "It's a bit more comfortable than portkeys, apparation, or floo travel. This one's a permanent connection between Britain and Benal."

"Britain actually let you do that?" I ask. "Or did you just do it anyways."

"Well, it's not like Britain knows about it, so there's no laws against it," Thomas replies. "Now stop stalling."

"Alright, alright! Do I just . . . step through it?"

"Yes."

I cast Thomas another glance, but before he can say anything, I step through the doorway, feeling like I'm falling through space for a moment before my feet connect solidly with the ground on the other side as I stumble though. Thomas steps beside me confidently and starts walking through the door, leaving me following behind. He nods at the receptionist before going out a second set of doors.

"Where exactly are we?" I ask, Thomas as I tag behind him, looking around at the crowded square.

"We're at Woodland Node," Thomas says, pulling me aside st that a centaur can get through the crowd, then pulling me under a crowd of chatting faeries and around the pixies that were glaring up at them. "It's the center for all magic beings in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. The wizards disagree of course, but those hat don't are welcomed here."

We reach the edge of the square and he pulls me past a couple of vendors selling perfumes and repellent for a variety of different creatures in tightly packaged bottles. I think I see a couple labeled "Muggle", "Wizard", and one that even says "Human". Then he pulls me sharply right into a shaded street with the name Gealach Street painted in Silver high above the crowd. The difference is obvious immediately because all of the people surrounding us looked like humans, and I noticed that they all had eyes in some shade of amber.

"So, how exactly did you change yourself back into Harry Potter?" Thomas asks as we weave through the crowds of werewolves. "Or will you not tell me still? And what happened to your scars?"

"I'll tell you after," I say, stepping to the side to let a couple of laughing children pass me by. "I don't have all of my scars because, had I not asked Ada to leave them, they would have healed away by now."

"I noticed," Thomas says, before he abruptly pulls me into a small door squished between two large window displays and into a room much larger than the entrance showed it could have been. We stop in front of the host. "Reservation for Remus Lupin?"

"The new alpha?" the man asks, blinking at Thomas in surprise.

"Yes," Thomas replies bluntly.

"He's here?"

". . . why would I ask after a reservation in his name otherwise?"

"Oh, of course," the host says, blushing and bending over to flick through the pages of the reservations book. "He's in the Forest Room."

"Thank you," Thomas says, turning in the direction indicated by the host and following the waiter indicated by the host. We go up a flight of stars and past several doors before the waiter stops before one carved out of a dark wood.

"This is the Forest Room. You can go in whenever you want," she says, bowing slightly before she leaves, her amber eyes catching the light for a moment.

"You alright?" Thomas asks, turning to me. I stare at the door, looking at the reflections on the polished door in the lamplight. "Do you want to leave?"

"I should go," I say absently.

"In or away?"

"In," I add, turning to look at him. "I'll be fine."

Thomas turns the handle, and after glancing at me again, gently pushes it open. The smell of pine trees, almost familiar now after my time at Saraswati's Hostel and my time at the school is the first thing to hit me. I blink at the swaying trees on the walls for a moment before my eyes focus on the two people standing in the room. After all the fuss that Thomas and Ezekiel had made, I almost expected to recognize Remus Lupin. Instead, there's just a vague sense of recognition that he's a werewolf from is amber eyes, and my eyes go instead to the African woman beside her. She reminds me of my Runes teacher with her (my my teacher's) no-nonsense attitude.

Then the man moves, turning from the walls in response to the woman's quiet murmur, and my eyes snap back to him as I examine him. His skin is pale, and his brown hair is flecked with grey strands that, combined with the scars and lines on his face, makes him seem older then the thirty years I know he is.

"Harry?" he whispers, and a sound I likely wouldn't have been able to catch normally whines on the edge of my hearing as he takes a step forward. I shiver, my hand coming up to press against the silver necklace under my shirt for the reassurance that this is truly my animagus form and not the one I had adopted as my own as I shift slightly to hide behind Thomas. The man's face crumples, but he doesn't move forward any more. Thomas glances back at me and sighs.

"Come on," he coaxes, pulling me forward and sitting down on the barkless log. I follow his example after a moment and watch the woman and man across from us do the same. We spend a couple of moments staring at each other before Lupin starts to speak.

"I'm . . . Remus Lupin, a werewolf - you knew that. Um, I knew your parents," he says awkwardly. I nod, still holding myself stiffly. Lupin looks between Thomas and I for a moment before he sighs and slumps forward slightly. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

That startles a laugh out of me, and a smile at the realization that he doesn't know everything. "It's . . . fine. I don't really know either."

"Well, we could start with this; are you alright? I heard that you were burned rather badly," the woman by Lupin's side speaks up, adding her name after a moment. "I'm Martha Smith."

"Pleased to meet you," I nod at her. "And I'm fine. Everything healed up easily."

I hesitate for a moment before I pull up the loose sleeves of the green shirt was wearing, revealing scar free skin. Thomas shifts next to me, looking down at my arm.

"And how about you?" I ask before anyone can comment. I pull the sleeve of my shirt down and tug at the sleeve to make sure that it's settled around my wrist. "I . . . how have you been for the past eleven years?"

"I've been fine, I guess," Lupin replies with a smile. "I've had jobs on and off because of the full moon, but I didn't ever not have money. The last year before I heard you were missing, I found a good employer. I told him I had a disease that came back every twenty five days."

"That's nice."

"And what about that boy - Noah Reis? Professor McGonagall said he seemed to be good boy. Fawkes liked him."

The question throws me off balance, and I blink at them.

"Noah's doing fine," Thomas says before I can reply. "He's in some of my classes at school - and he's the reason I found you. He spent almost eight months with Harry, and it rubbed off slightly."

"That's good," Lupin says. "And you would be?"

"Thomas Rodgers," Thomas replies. "It's nice to meet you. Good to know there's more room now."

"Of course," Lupin replies, though he seems somewhat awkward.

"How is Fawkes?" I ask. "I only met him the once - but he was fantastic. And Noah said that Fawkes helped him."

"Well, we don't really know where Fawkes is," Lupin says, sitting back slightly. "He's highly intelligent and can take care of himself, but no one has seen him since the end of the school year."

"Oh," I frown. "Well, I hope he's alright. So, what have you been doing since you heard I was missing?"

"Well, I got a job as a caretaker," Lupin says. "Then I was going to be teaching the Defense at Hogartd this year, but now that I've become an Alpha, I no longer have the time to."

"And how are Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid?"

"They're all fine," Lupin replies. There's a sort of awkward silence as I stare at Lupin. I think that at this point, people would normally have begun to ask about other friends and discussed common interests, but I don't really know anything about this man. We spend the rest of the hour we have basically staring at each other and asking questions everyone in a while. At the end of the hour, a waiter opens the door and escorts all of us out of the room. We go our separate ways outside of the restaurant, Thomas starting off in the direction we'd come from and Martha pulling Remus the other way.

"Are you alright?" he asks me quietly as we weave through the crowds of werewolves. I glance down to see my hand trembling, and shake my head.

"I am not."

"At least you're admitting it," Thomas says, nudging me slightly as we exit Gealach Street and step into the courtyard. "So, will you tell me your secret now? How close was I this morning?"

" Brandr was the closest. My minor animagus form was a two part transformation - the auxiliary form being human. That's the form I'm wearing now," I explain.

"Doesn't that mean that she was right?" Thomas asks. "'Harry Potter' was your minor animagus."

"No," I reply as smile stealing over my face. "'Harry Potter' was originally my primary form. And since the form I am wearing now is an auxiliary part of my minor animagus form, it is not my minor animagus form."

"That is hair splitting," Thomas says as we go into the place we'd come out of. He shows two pieces of paper to the secretary without looking and we enter the door we'd come through. "How much theory did you even learn about the Animagus transformation anyways?"

"I was able to find and transform into both of the forms of my minor Animagus for on my first try," I say as we step up to the gate. I step through the gate, and manage not to stumble as much this time.

"Your first time?" Thomas asks before he steps through. "You are just full of surprises."

* * *

 **Chapter 15: Chapter 15**

* * *

"Well, how was it?"

I glance up as Ezekiel slides into the seat next to me, Brandr by his side. I'd eaten lunch in my room this morning, so D&D is the first class I'm seeing them in. My mind flies to Zion's word yesterday - about Ezekiel's classes - as they sit down.

"It was awkward. I don't know the man, and he doesn't know me."

 _"And how are you?"_ Brandr asks, lightly touching the burn scars on my arm.

"I'm fine, Brandr. Honestly."

"They stumbled over words and stared at each other a lot," Thomas says as he sits down on Ezekiel's other side, and I let grunt as he - not exactly drops - but basically drops something warm, fuzzy, and heavy onto my lap.

"Hello, Vepkhia," I greet the tiger on my lap. She sends me a distinctly unamused look that I remember well from my days at Ms. Figg's house, but allows me to gently run a hand down her back. "How old is she now?"

Thomas turns from Ezekiel to look at me as he answers the question. "She's about fifteen weeks old."

"Thanks," I murmur and turn back to petting Vepkhia. She's a bit bigger than the house cats Ms. Figg kept, and more solidly built, but she acts just like a larger version of those numerous cats, down to her butting my hand when I stop petting. I find that I don't mind now that it's just her, and not twenty different cats all vying for attention.

* * *

I figure out the Runes teacher's name at lunch as I read one of the books from the book case in my room on assorted Runes masters. She's He Jin, a Penghuo that graduated from Benal on 1009. Since then, she had built her reputation with assorted projects like the creation of several spells - including the main mode of transportation that wizards use today, apparation. She'd also managed to complete her own fully functioning set of runes, one that was used widely as one of the primary runic languages for plant beings. (That last specification had confused my for a while before I remembered what He Jin had said about other schools of runes holding that only their way is true. Plant based beings have similar backgrounds so most likely, the runes invented by another plant based being will hold more meaning than those invented by, say,, a fire based being.)

Class after learning that feels slightly awkward, but I don't think He Jin notices as she traces the straight design of _creation_ , comparing it to _acceptance_ and _base_ , the other two symbols I've turned in.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask, slightly afraid of the frown on her face as she looks at the three symbols side by side.

"Have you been looking into any other runic languages?" she asks, making me shake me head.

"I was just reading this," I reply, pulling the book I'd found her in out of my bag. "It doesn't have the complete runic languages in it, but it does have some of the symbols of each creator."

"Alright," He Jin murmurs, tracing _creation_ again before she moves on. "Good job then."

* * *

I meet the others at the meeting tree after Faeri Magic, and we all go up to Ezekiel's room. He grumbles as he opens the door and walks in, leaving the rest of us gaping at the wide space of his room, all of it shades of red. His room has more books than some libraries I can name, and in the gap between stacks I can see a glimpse of a reading place with books lying open before Ezekiel grumpily emerges from the stacks.

"Come on, you guys can sit over here," he says, ushering us over to a bunch of chairs surrounding a coffee table next to an unlit fireplace.

 _"What is it?"_ Brandr asks as she sets her messengers bag down and perches herself on the arm of one of the chairs.

"You - " Ezekiel sighs as he lowers himself into a chair. "Of course you noticed. America just declared war on Europe."

"Which America?" I ask, thinking of the many different groups that can be referred to as America.

"Werewolf America," Ezekiel says, closing his eyes and seemingly relaxing into his armchair.

Thomas lets out a growl low in his throat, Vepkhia looking up at his from her position at his feet. "What is it this time?"

"Alphas," Eekiel replies without opening his eyes. "They heard that we found another one and are demanding him because they need him more."

"Damn it," Thomas spits as he sits back. "This is why I disappeared."

Ezekiel's eyes fly open and he sits up. "You aren't leaving again."

Thomas glances at him, and the anger in his posture drains abruptly, leaving him looking defeated. "I won't. But I can still hate this."

"Why exactly does America want one of Europe's alphas?" I ask confused. "If they own him in a fight, then he wouldn't exactly be loyal to them, and they's have to worry about him turning any wolves under him against them."

"That's not really the way it works," Ezekiel explains after staring at me for a moment. "They aren't aiming for the new Alpha - they know they'll have exactly those problems, and there's the added trouble on inexperience on top of that. America's aiming to gain one of the wolves born into the packs. Those Alpha won't betray their new allegiance in any large ways, and they already know how a pack is supposed to be run."

 _"Then why can't you just share the Alpha?"_ Brandr asks.

"Split allegiances."

"You guys make things way too hard on yourselves," I grumble. "So, how are your classes going?"

* * *

The next passes without incident until I arrive at my Runes class with _deception_. What ever has been bugging my teacher must have been confirmed by that, and the takes the three designs I'd drawn, and leaves the class, telling us to read about Rune Usage and Rune Sight. I'm a bit concerned about her interest in my runes, but the subject matter is interesting enough to keep me distracted.

Everything has a runic "matrix", which is something I'd learned before, but the book goes into more detail about the matrices, primarily using magic as the main example. Muggles, as it turns out, are not magic free, but simply lack the magic matrix. There's a small section theorizing on what would happen if one added a magic matrix to a muggle, and once again using it as an example to describe what happens when you add any sort of specific matrix onto a personal matrix. It lists the side affects that adding certain matrices are known to bring; nausea, mood swings, violence, uncontrollable magic, oversensitiveness, death, and a variety of other miserable things. These are thought to be caused by your body's reaction to the matrix as it adjusts and tries to find a balancing point again.

I'm about halfway through reading the affects of adding a parseltounge matrix are for a standard magical human when He Jin returns to class an motions for me to come out. I glance at the short, young man beside her, a tired looking vampire with pale skin, short black hair and golden eyes, as he regards me in turn. "What is it?"

"I want you to read the to me please," He Jin says, handing me a light looking book up and watching as I open it with sharp eyes.

"Do you want me to read aloud?" I ask as I trace over the letters of the title, and she nods.

"Alright." I flip a page to one with more text and start reading. " _My name is Brub of the Arwen Clan, once and future king of the city of Atlantis._ Is this a book of fairy tales?"

"No, it's not," He Jin replies as I look up, the vampire's fixed eyes making me nervous as I smooth my fingers over the pages. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just - King Brub of Atlantis is a story that Ada told me for bed time once. I'm surprised to hear the name now," I say with a slight frown. "Why do you want me to read this anyways?"

"None of what you read to us just now was in English, and neither is the writing in the book you hold," the vampire says, my eyes flicking to him, then down at the book. I frown and squint at it because it looks just like English. Then something happens, making in my eyes feel like I went cross-eyed, and by the time I blink and shake my head, the symbols on the book are most definitely not English, but I still know exactly what everything means.

"What just happened?" I demand, pushing the book at He Jin to take. This reminds me far too much of my first conscious experience with parseltounge, which hadn't ended well.

"Congratulations, Mr. Reis," the vampire says. "You have just earned yourself private lessons with the greatest known runes expert."

"Aaron Brooke? Why would he want anything to do with me?" I ask, frowning at the man, who just smiles and shakes his head.

"Because not even _I_ can read that book," the man replies with a smile, holding out his hand. "Aaron Brooke. Nice to meet you."

". . . you look normal," I say after a moment, shaking the hand offered to me. "Other than your eyes."

"You look normal and you come from England," Aaron replies as I let go of his hand. "You can keep the book, I don't really have much use for it."

"Thanks, maybe I can educate myself," I say, venom bleeding into my voice before I remember Thorin's words about anger. "What do you mean private lessons?"

"Well, you seem to have a natural talent for Runes, though I'll have to test you some more, so it mainly means that you'll be coming to my room for your runes classes," Aaron replies nonchalantly.

"I'll leave you two to it," He Jin says, drawing our attention to her. We nod at her, and she goes back into the classroom.

The two of us spend the rest of the period talking, and Aaron tells me what he knows about the book.

* * *

"Hello stranger," Zion greets me as I wander into my room. "So, do you have a student?"

"Yes," I reply, a smile pulling at my lips as I sit down on the bed next to my friend and let myself fall back and relax. The bed moves, and I blink lazily at him when Zion drops himself on top of me, his red and green eyes staring down at me.

"Well, you seem happy."

"He has natural talent. He read from that old book I found - you know, the one no one could read."

"Aaron," Zion sighs as my lets his head rest on my chest. "That's a stupid test. How many times have I told you to bring one of the newer books like your translation of Errant."

"Then I wouldn't have known he could read it," I point out.

"And yet you yourself can't read it after years of trying. How many students have you lost that way?"

"None actually," I retort. "He Jin told me to bring the book because she thought that the boy was writing the language down for her 'create a language' project. I don't usually show the book to my students till they're ready to graduate."

"Kari knows that you wouldn't let me look at it for a century," Zion grumbles. I don't reply, a frown stealing over my face at the mention of Kari. "Aaron?"

"The boy said that the book was written by Brub. Well, first he asked if it was a fairy tale."

"A fairy tale?"

"Said that he was told the story of King Brub of Atlantis as a bed time story."

"Well. Do you think-?"

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Chapter 16**

* * *

I'm putting this on hiatus so I can concentrate on fewer stories. I'm sorry.

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Chapter 17**

* * *

Hi. This is abandoned, and will go to my Dribbles story tomorrow. I apologize.


	3. Forgotten:Percy Jackson

Title: **Forgotten**  
Category: Books » Percy Jackson and the Olympians  
Author: Morgan K'Treva  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Adventure/General  
Published: 12-21-14, Updated: 11-05-16  
Chapters: 17, Words: 18,321

* * *

 **Chapter 1: 1: Hera, Hephaestus, Fates**

* * *

I stare impassively down the the mortal world, watching my husband and his newest conquest.

"Mother?" a voice called, and I turn to see my youngest son watching me, his face in that odd look of his that meant that he was concerned, but unsure of what to do.

"Hello Hepheastus," I say calmly, turning back to watch my husband. There was a moment of hesitation before footsteps came, echoing in the large hall, and a warm leather coat is draped over my shoulders.

"You shouldn't torture yourself," the god of fire said, gently nut firmly grasping my shoulders and turning me away from the mirror as my hands come up and grasp the coat to stop it from falling off.

"Thank you," I say, giving him a small smile before my face falls back to the weariness that I can never show my husband, and I bring the hand that isn't clutching at my coat up to rub at my eyes before turning to look at the heart fire and watching Hestia tend to it. "I'm just tiered of seeing him ignore me time after time. We had three hundred good years together, but then . . . I guess he got bored of me."

Hepheastus rubbed his bare arm, looking uncomfortable and shooting glances at Hestia, trying to ask for her help.

"I'm probably not the best to be talking about this and all," he said. "Aphrodite and I never really wanted to be together, and I'm horrible with people."

"I know," I sigh, turning slightly so that I can see just Zues's face in the mirror. "Sometime, I wish I could just go down there and do what all of you do."

Then I snort. "Look at me, the Goddess of Marriage wishing to cheat!"

Hephaestus shifted uncomfortably again before sighing.

"Look, it's not really my place to say anything, Mother," he said gruffly. "But I think that Zeus has forgotten your temper. I think that you should do whatever you want for once."

He smiled a bit, making the scars on his face twist. "After all, you had a condition for marrying him. He didn't remain loyal, so there is no reason your marriage is still valid, considering that was your condition."

A small smile starts to grow on my face as I nod slowly. "Yes, that was my condition."

I turn sharply to Hestia. "Sister-"

"Be careful," the old woman said, cloudy eyes staring straight at me. "I am tired of seeing you hurt, but you must be careful sister."

She smile after a moment. "Though I do believe that Hephaestus is right. We have all forgotten your temper, and Zeus should be reminded. Do not worry sister. I shall cover for you."

As I look into the eyes of a for that my sister has only take twice before, the impact of what I want to do hits me.

"Oh- oh- oh Rhea, Sister," I gasp my hands coming up to my mouth. "What will I-"

"Do not worry," Hestia smile at me. "Now go. Go to the mortals and find someone you like."

I have to fight back the urge to laugh as for a moment, I shed the calm and collected personality I had grasped for millennia and laugh wildly as I dart outside and fly out to the mortal world. I switch to an inconspicuous sparrow and fly above the crowds, looking for trends before I disappear between one flap and another, and reappear over the mountains, settling on a branch before letting myself take the form of the young woman I had not been in many year.

I stifle a giggle as I wave a hand over myself to change my cloths into one of the more sensible outfits I had seen before setting out to the nearest town.

It's been too long since I could just relax!

* * *

Back in the throne room, Hephaestus turned to look at his Aunt, who had once again resumed the form of a young girl.

"Are you sure this is alright?" he asked he.

"This is what she needs," Hestia replied, with a mysterious smile on her face. "It's time that this pantheon remembers that old times."

She turns to stare at him eyes sharp.

"Be careful nephew, times are changing, and I don't want you hurt," she said. "If you want a show, watch for what people have forgotten in their complacency."

She turned back to tending the fire with that, and Hephaestus could only shake his head in bemusement.

* * *

Clotho watched in amusement as the thread she had been weaving unraveled in her hand.

"Laches! Atropos!" she called, making her sisters turn, smiles coming to their faces as they saw the four new threads coming out of the one that Clotho had been weaving.

"So she finally snapped?" Laches asked in amusement.

"Yes," Clotho said. "Now look here, it seems that things long forgotten shall be dug up."

"Oh?" Atropos asked. "A fixed point now, then?"

"So it seems," Clotho said in amusement. "We haven't had a true one of those in a while now. This will be fun!"

The laughter of the three goddesses filed their room, and the lone animal close to them brayed softly before going back to eating the grass.

* * *

 _Hey, this is Morgan, with another story. I was just looking at things when Hera's condition for marrying Zeus came up. That's not the only this though, so stay tuned!_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: 2: Imad, Zoe**

* * *

"Asha!" Imad cried as he ran into the room.

"Imad," Asha replied, a flush still coloring her dark skin, but happy as she rocked the blue wrapped bundle in her arms. She motioned him closer, and as he sat down, tilted her arms so that he could see the child's dark pink skin. After a moment, the baby's eyes twitch and he blinks, revealing startlingly dark blue eyes. "Meet Thomas."

"He's a boy?" Imad asked, reaching up to gently touch Thomas's skin, brushing his forehead.

"Yes," Asha replied. "The doctors examined him and found nothing unusual, so it seems that the traits of who ever we summoned haven't shown up yet, and might not for a while."

"Really?" Imad asked, his eyes lighting up when Asha nodded. "That's-"

"Incorrect."

"Who's there?" Imad snapped, whirling around into a standing pose, his staff pulled out of the duat in a mere moment.

"Peace," the young girl said, raising her hands. "I am from his father's pantheon."

"Who are you?" Imad practically snarled.

"I am Hestia," the girl said. "May I sit? I have come with a warning for you about little Thomas."

"Hestia," Imad repeated, as if tasting the name as he pushed the chair he had been sitting on towards the child-god. "Greek Goddess of Hearth, Home, Hope, and Family."

"Yes," the girl said somberly, sitting on the chair and resting her hands on her lap, unconsciously smoothing out a few creases of her simple brown dress.

"Speak then, Goddess," Imad said, straightening. "What is it you have come for?"

"I have come to warn you about your child," Hestia replied, the reflection of a fire shimmering i her eyes as she turned her gaze to the child behind Imad. "The Fates have deemed that as Blood of your Pharaohs and child of our Gods, he has too much power for one mortal."

"Too much power for one mortal?" Asha whispered from behind Imad, and he turned to see her face was as pale as her dark skin would allow. "But-"

"You needen't worry just yet," Hestia calmed her. "In Greece, it is not our way to interfere with mortal lives overly much, so the fates would normally tie his life to that of an object."

Her lips twisted bitterly. "An object such as a piece of fire wood burning in your fire place. I believe that you call is sympathetic magic. This is their way of balancing the mortal's power."

"What do you mean normally?" asked Imad, catching the loop hole in what she had said.

"Well, this time, there were two others of similar parentage, identical in the way that matters to the fates," Hestia said, pulling a picture from her pocket of a woman and two new born children in her arms, a man with his arm around her shoulder as he smile at the camera, making Asha gasp. "This is Afra, and Simba Kokinos, with their two newborn children Selene and Zoe Kokinos."

"So she's alright?" Asha asked at the same time as her husband asked, "What do they have to do with anything?"

"Patience child," Hestia said sternly to Imad, before smiling at Asha. "Yes she is fine."

"Now, as I was saying," Hestia said, tucking the photo back into her pocket. "The twin's parents are much like you two. Afra, was sterile, her eggs were damaged in an accident when she was young."

Ashe gasped, her hand flying to her mouth before she frowned. "But didn't you say she had children?"

"Yes, I did," Hestia replied with a smile. "Now, once they realized this, they called upon the Greek gods, and they were blessed, two goddesses giving them starts."

"What does this have to do with Thomas?" Imad asked, still prickly thoguh he was content to sit on Asha's bed.

"Patience, Magician," Hestia said, exasperated. "Now because of their very much the same heritage, the fates bound their lives together. Should one die, then all three will."

"What?" Asha asked shocked. Hestia merely sighed, eyes flicckering to the ceiling.

"I'm sorry, but I must go now. Zues will be looking for me soon," she said, standing. She opened the door before pausing and turning.

"Take this," she said, tossing a silver bracelet. "Put it on Thomas's wrist, and don't take it off, not even for baths. You needn't worry about it growing too small for him, it will grow with him, and when he needs it, it will turn into a good weapon that should injure anything not of the mortals. Goodbye."

Imad caught the bracelet, and after glancing at Asha, he offered it to her so that she could put it on Thomas's wrist, as she was already unwrapping him.

A pair of sad fiery eyes watched the couple as they huddled close together on the bed as if it wold help them.

"May you stay safe, Thomas Sanna," a voice said, floating in the hall outside the door.

When the nurse turned the corner the next moment, there was nothing.

* * *

 _Five Years Later . . ._

I scowl at the bowl of oil in front of me, and look up at Thomas and Selene as they listen to the heads of some other nome and write down their reports. I sigh as I wave my hand over my scrying bowl once with a muttered "Ha-tep" to cleanse the oil, and am about to try scrying the teacher again when the door to the the scryign room opens, and I look up, watching curiously as Chief Lector Iskandar comes in with an Arabian looking girl who looks a few years older than me, and I scowl at the people around me as I remember once again, that most of the initiates weren't brought here until they were ten.

I cleanse the oil again, and quickly reach out for the teacher's bowl, holding my breath when an image of the ceiling appears, wavering for a moment before it became stable, and I hiss a yes before I go quiet as I realize that I can hear the teacher's conversation despite the fact that he's away from his bowl.

"-need to be careful, and if you need any help protecting her just call for me," come the Chief Lector's voice from the bowl.

"I will. Are you certain she's alright?" came the worried voice of the teacher.

"She's fine," said the Chief Lector, and I hastily terminate the scrying session as I realize that they were approaching the bowl.

I cleanse the oil and try the scrying once again, smiling when the image of the teacher sitting down comes into focus.

"Yes!" I exclaim, pumping my fist into the air. "Finally!"

"Zoe?" the teacher asked in amusement.

"This is my second time getting your bowl old man!" I exclaim, getting _'Shut-up!'_ looks from the people around you.

"Really?" the teacher asked seriously, and I nod, making him smile. "Well, the how about I set you up with one of the other initiates so you can try it a few more times."

"Sure," I reply, and the teacher cut the connection off.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: 3: Zoe**

* * *

They say everyone who looks into their family history will find a secret sooner or later.

We were all of six years old, and had only been initiates for a year when it happened. Ma and Aunt Imad had taken us to a pond when the first odd thing happened. I giant, and I mean _**giant**_ , as in probably as tall as it's back hitting the bottom of the life guard's tower, came crawling out from the waves, sending people screaming. Selene, Thomas, and I are pushed behind the two women as they face the crab. The three of us kids grab each other's hands, squeezing almost painfully, and I think I that one of us whimpers as we huddle together.

This wasn't our first time being attacked while outside the nome, but usually we had at least three of our parents with us, and no witnesses. There was also the fact that after a year of training, we all knew when a person was loosing, and from the few glimpses we caught of our mothers when we dared to peak up said that the fight was not going good. Every weapon that the two women were using against the grab just passed right through it like it was made of air, but the way it managed to hit Ma and Aunt Imad told a different story. My hand clenches down even more painfully of Thomas's wrist, the rounded edges and braided wire of the silver-looking bracelet digging into the skin of my fingers. I can feel Selene doing the same thing to my right wrist, and there's a tugging from Thomas.

"What is it?" I hiss as he tries to tug us towards the water.

"What?" he replies, a confused look on his face even as he continues.

"Why are you tugging us to the water?" I ask, and he stops.

"I-" he frowns in confusion, but before he can continue, Selee gasps and tugs at my wrist, making me turn as she points at a monster that looked like the classic European gryphon, in other words, almost nothing like an Egyptian griffin. Thomas also follows Selene's finger, and abruptly starts tugging at me again, making me stumble this time.

"Come on," he says frantically, and with a glance back at the gryphon, I follow him, pulling Selene along as we run towards the water.

"What is it?" Selene yells as we sprint, stumbling over a rock as we start running down hill to the pond.

"I think the water can protect us some how!" Thomas yelled back, pulling Selene and me with him as he wades into the river. I grip his wrist tighter as I glance at Ma and Aunt Imad, who were too busy fighting the giant crab to think of helping us.

"I sure hope so," I tell Thomas. Then we yelp as the crab sends a ton of sand flying at us, our hands still inter locked as we raise them to protect our faces. After a moment, we cautiously look around our arms before gasping. Before us stands a swirling half-dome of sand, little patterns spiraling in and out of existence as we watch in awe. Beside me I can feel Thomas and Selene reaching out to touch it, but before their had had even risen above their waist, the and slowly shifted down to cover the ground, leaving a lifeless pile after a moment. Before I can register anything else, Ma is in front of me, gasping and crying as she pulls Selene and I into her grasp. I blink before I let go Thomas's hand to warp an arm around Ma, and he quickly wraps his arm around Aunt Imad, the two of the moving a couple of feet away.

"What were you thinking?" Ma asks when she finally pulls back, tears staining her face.

"Ma, did you see that?" asks Selene, her voice soft and wavering.

"See what?" Ma asked as she pulled back, but her eyes have that shifty glint that they always have when ever she speaks of the gods, especially when ever we ask her about any Greek references.

"Ma," I say, my voice soft as I lean forward and bury my face into her for a moment before pulling back. "I know you know something."

Ma looks between Selene and I before glancing up to look at Aunt Imad, and I turn to watch. Aunt Imad is looking resigned, and when Ma tilts her head, Aunt Imad nods, and picks Thomas up to carry him over to us. When Aunt Imad and Thomas have settled down next to us, Aunt Imad starts, "What do you know about the Greek Gods and their children?"

"Their children?" Selene asks, scrunching her nose up.

"Do you mean the demi-gods?" Thomas asks in a small voice, and I take a moment to realize just how much his eyes remind me of water. "Like Herakles and Perseus?"

"Yes," Ma says looking resigned.

"You three are each the children of a different god or goddess," Aunt Imad says.

"But- but I thought only the Egyptian gods were real," I whisper, making Ma turn to look at me, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Honey, as far as we can tell, almost _all_ of the gods are real," she says. "The earth goes through a different culture's end of the world at least once ever year now, though there are always heroes or simply insane people fighting it off."

"Who are we the children of?" Thomas asks.

"Well, you are most likely the child of Poseidon," Aunt Imad says.

"And as for you two, " Ma says, looking at Selene and I, "We don't know whose daughters you are, other than that you each have a different goddess's blessing."

"You don't even know who our parents are?" Selene asks as I stare numbly. "How do you even know they're Greek?"

"We know that your other parents are Greek because of the Greek goddess who came down to tell us of-" Aunt Imad broke off. "Hestia, the Greek Goddess of Hearth, Home, Hope, and Family came down to tell us that if one of you three dies, all of you die, and to give you your bracelets."

"Do you think she could be one of our parents? She came to see us after all," I say hopefully, but Ma is already shaking her head.

"Hestia is a virgin goddess, and she probably only came because you're her family, and that is part of what she's the goddess of," Ma says.

I sight back tears as we're pulled home, not letting go of Thomas, even when bed time comes.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: 4: Thomas**

* * *

Things change in the next five years.

Maybe for some people, the revelation that your life is dependent on your two best friends staying alive would have pushed you apart from said friends, but we only got closer. It got to the point that the three of us got a separate room from the rest of the initiates because we refused to sleep apart. Our parents on the other hand were pushed away.

Once we truly got into magic, it didn't take us long to find our specialties.

I had always had an affinity for water and earth, from Poseidon I suppose, but it helped me, and I was able to use the earth, and sometimes the water in ways people say are impossible. Zoe has a similar affinity for fire, and I think that's because of the way she thinks of it, as heat, as energy, as warmth, instead of just destruction. Selene on the other hand specializes in divine words (in other words, the element of cheese, which means the lack of an affinity), healing, and animal charming.

But our magic isn't all that's changed. I'm always in front of Zoe and Selene, distracting the enemy until the twins can strike. Zoe calmed down entirely, loosing her temper and becoming what I call home, while her twin Selene did the exact opposite and lost her shy attitude, growing a temper that was only ever calm when the three on us were alone.

(In a way, it reminds me of a manga I read, Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, with Zoe as our Sky, me as her Rain, Lightning and Mist, and Selene as her Storm, Sun, and Cloud.)

(I choke when I realize that Zoe started wearing orange, and Selene red, yellow and purple after I started wearing blue, green and indigo.)

Magic wasn't the only thing we practiced though. After our parents told us about our godly parents, they also told us that Hestia had told them that our bracelets would turn into weapons and they did, turning into almost identical daggers, each with different inscriptions. Mine says "fluctus aequorei" meaning "breaking waves" in Latin. Zoe's dagger reads "Ελπίδα για το αύριο", or "Elpída gia to áv̱rio", meaning "Hope for tomorrow", and Selene's reads "Η μητέρα μας βοηθήσει", or "I̱ mi̱téra mas voi̱thí̱sei", meaning "Mother help us", both in Greek. (Honestly that scares me.) Together, the three of us have practiced fighting with the daggers, and while most likely not that good, we can fight each other now.

We also started reading as many Greek and Roman myths as we could, reading about Hercules's labors, and about Bellerophon, and Atalanta. We read the Roman myths because despite what our parents told us, my dagger had Latin on it, not Greek, and there is actually quite a gap between the two.

Now at eleven, we're actually pretty good magicians despite our age, and nearly impossible to split apart. We worked together in ways that many of the older magicians probably wished for.

So when we were summoned together for our nome assignment, it was understandable that we were together, unlike the many other magicians.

We walk down the Hall of Ages in our formal clothes and stop in front of Chief Lector Iskandar. I shift uncomfortably in the kilt think before Selene kicks me.

"You three," Iskandar says as a new cloud of hieroglyphs appears, "Shall take watch of the 21st Nome."

"You mean Amos Kane's Nome?" Zoe asks calmly as Selene and I continue to stand at attention.

"Yes," Iskandar confirms. "You are expected tomorrow at eight. Arangements have been made for you to attend Mariwether College Prep. Make sure to keep a close eye on Amos Kane. He has all of the paperwork for your transfer."

"Anything else?" Zoe asks calmly, and Iskandar shakes his head.

"If you are needed, we will send word on your phones," he says, and the three of us bow before turning, Selene and I stepping apart as we do so so that Zoe can pass between us to walk in front of us before falling into position two steps behind her. Desjardins is waiting for us just outside of the doors to the Hall of Ages, an odd look on his face as he hands me a picture of a statue of Bast.

* * *

At 5:25 a.m. the three of us are up and waiting for the sun to rise, gathered around one of the many sandstone pyramids that had been constructed for the purpose of making portals, all of us dressed in simple linen and cotton outfits in our chosen colors. Before us, Zoe's hieroglyph floats, waiting for the moment we believe is auspicious (because the three of us defiantly managed to open gates on moments that aren't supposed to auspicious, which makes me suspect that it really depends on what you believe). In the space between moments, the swirling portal of sand appears and with a glance at each other, we step through together. A shabati is waiting for us on the other side, handing us a paper with writing on it and escorting us down a set of stairs.

Zoe reads the paper as we walk down, Selene in front of her, and me in back. She looks up from the note as the stairs open into a great hall. The great hall's cedar ceiling climbs four stories high and is held up by stone pillars with hieroglyphs engraved upon them. Three of these stories contain balconies looking out onto the room. The walls are decorated with strange assortment of musical instruments and Ancient Egyptian weapons. There is an enormous fireplace (big enough to park a car) with a plasma-screen TV above the mantel; it is flanked by two leather sofas. There is a giant snake-skin rug on the ground. In the center of the Great Room is a black marble statue of Thoth.

Sitting on one one of the sofas is a baboon with golden hair in a purple sports shirt. He looks up curiously, but does nothing as the shabati bows and walks away.

We set our bags down, and Selene and I gather around Zoe to read the note. It's brief, saying that he won't be able to meet with us for an hour or so because of a recent disturbance, and that should we need anything, we should call for the shabati Juniper. The baboon's name is also apparently Khufu, who would show us to the floor where we could pick rooms, if we asked.

We look at each other and sigh in unison in the way that only close friends or coincidences can produce before Selene grabs her bags goes over to the baboon and presumably asks him to take us to the floor with the rooms. Khufu grunts, and claps, making three shabati appear and take our bags before leading us back to and up the stairs.

He takes us to a landing with three halls branching off of it and grunts, pointing at each of the halls. Selene does something, and Khufu grunds again before heading down the stairs.

"Alright, most of the bedrooms are technically for only one person, but he says that the smaller ones should fit two comfortable and the larger one could fit the three of us easily. The hall going that way -" she says, pointing to the hall directly across from the stairs "- leads to the rooms with balconies on the outside. The other two both lead to the rooms with balconies over the Great Room, and rooms without balconies."

"I forgot how much you could get out of so little sound," I mutter before clearing my throat. "We should find if thre are any rooms that connect to both the outside and inside. That way we have an escape route on two sides, and easy acess to the Great Room."

Zoe and Selene nod in agreement, and we walk down the halls looking for such a room. We're each checking different rooms, but it isn't till we reach the very end of the hallway that we find one.

Selene opens to door and calls for the rest of us. "Here, I think I found something!"

"What colors are it?" Zoe asks as she ambles over to her twin.

"Orange, blue, and purple," Selene states in satisfaction, making me laugh. I glance into the room as the shabati put down our suitcases and Selene and Zoe happily chat about decorating it. We all start pulling our clothes out and tucking them into dressers or putting them into closets.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: 5: Thomas**

* * *

"Hello?" a male voice calls. Selene and Zoe exchange glances as I walk towards the balcony and look carefully over the railing. Below us, in the great hall, stands a dark-skinned man in a black suite, trench coat, and fedora, just as he had looked in his pictures.

"Amos Kane," I say as he takes his hat and coat off and sets them on the coat rack, stepping up to the railing, and the man looks up.

"You must be Thomas Sanna," Amos says as Selene and Zoe come up to stand beside me. "And the Kokinos twins, Selene and Zoe."

"That's right," I reply. Then I jump over the railing and roll into a standing position when I hit the floor, my hands already folded as I bow my head slightly. "Nice to meet you."

"Will you be doing that much?" Amos asks as Selene and Zoe drop down behind me.

"Yes," I says calmly as the girls step up beside me. "Why do you ask?"

"It's bad for my heart is all," Amos says calmly. "I expect you'll have a bit of jet lag, so you have the rest of the night to sleep, and you'll have the day after that to settle in. School starts the day after that."

"Alright," I acknowledge with a nod. "Anything else you should tell me?"

"Khufu only eats foods ending in an -o, and there;s an albino crocodile on our balcony in the swimming pool," Amos says calmly, meeting my eyes. "His name is Philip of Macedonia, and he likes bacon. Breakfast is out on the patio with him."

We nod, and with that, I turn and throw a strong piece of rope up towards our balcony and murmur "Tas!" so it wraps it's end securely around the balcony rail for us to climb up. I can feel Amos's gaze on my back all the way up, and there's a frown on his face when I glance back before he sweeps out of the room. I loosen the rope in a couple of quick tugs and pull it up once Selene and Zoe are up, and we go back into our room and collapse on our beds.

" 'Night, Thomas. 'Night Selene," Zoe calls.

"Good night," we call back as the lights that had been on flick off and leave us in darkness.

* * *

We all wake up way too early for New York, as expected, and after lazing around for an hour, we go down stairs and look through the library. When we's found all of the stories we felt that we needed to reread, we'd reread all of the Greek and Roman stories we'd collected, and placed them on a shelf one of the shabti had fetched for us and put in an empty room with it's entrance between two of the book cases on one of the lower levels. In total, that took us around five hours of fetching from the Duat, placing on shelves, arranging, rearranging when we find another book, and simply reading through the books.

Still, with those six hours spent, we still have around an hour left before a polite breakfast, and so we ask a shabti to how us a training room. We grin at each other the whole way there, and when the shabti opens the door, I step aside with a small mocking bow to the ladies, and they charge in. Fire roars, and I smile as I lean against the door and watch the twins fight each other, their short, curly dark hair moving with them, and their dark eyes gleaming against their dark skin. Then I ump into the fray, intercepting a fireball from Zoe and sending a wave of water to crash down on her as I intercept the flock of birds that Selene sent at me and whirl the in Zoe's direction to intercept her kick, making her falter.

The three on three fight goes on until we're all exhausted, sweaty, and grinning like crazy as we lay on the stone floor and try to cool down.

"I won . . . this time," Zoe gasps out, and I laugh breathlessly. Then I let out a groan as I prop myself up and turn to look at my friends.

"Come on then," I say, pushing myself to my feet and helping them up. "Let's not show up sweaty for breakfast."

* * *

I wander onto the patio before the girls, and look curiously at the swimming pool, remembering Amos's comment about the crocodile last night. The I turn and look the buffet table and take the seat in front of Amos, who is already there, reading some old book, and drinking a cup of coffee, a dirty plate and silverware set beside him. He waves a lazy and at me and I nod in recognition.

I run a hand through my still-wet hair, and grab a chocolate muffin, bacon, some grapes, and cup of a hot, sweetened tea that I can usually find at a nome. The muffin is gone, and I eating the last of the grapes and drinking the dregs of my tea before Zoe and Selene come out to eat, and Amos is on another cup of coffee.

He looks up from his coffee as they walk towards the table, Zoe slightly leading Selene. He blinks slightly, looking between Zoe and I with a frown, before he shakes his head. He motions them towards the buffet table, and they quickly grab some rolls, yogurt, sausage, watermelon, and a glass of milk. He starts to speak when they sit down.

"As you've likely already heard, you three will be going to Meriwether College Prep," he said, before muttering, "I don't really think Iskandar researched this properly, because it's in Manhattan."

"What's wrong with Manhattan?" Zoe asks as Amos sips his coffee.

"Manhattan has other problems," he replies cryptically. "Other gods."

At that, our eyes spark, and we exchange a weighted look. Amos interrupts by snapping his finger and having the shabti clear away used plates and decorations to give him room to spread a subway map out. He shows us a route to easily get to our new school, and then hands us three subway tickets.

"Use these to get to where ever you want to be in New York. Just, be careful in Manhattan please," he ends, draining his coffee cup. "I know that I need watchers, but it would be hard to explain loosing you three to Iskandar. Do you three have phones?"

"No," we reply simultaneously. "We never needed them."

"Here you go then," Amos says, and pushes three orange and white phones over the map to us. "My number is already saved, but you'll have to save eachother's numbers."

"Thanks," Zoe replies as we each take a phone, before looking up. "What should we do for the rest of today?"

"You could look around the mansion, and at the warehouse below," Amos offers. "If you need help, ask Khufu, he'll show you around. I'll be out all day."

* * *

 _Sorry I'm so late, I was finding a new fandom so that I could understand my friend's references. Hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

 **Chapter 6: 6: Selene**

* * *

In the end, I ask Khufu to show Zoe, Thomas and I around the mansion, getting a feel for where everything is, and looking for any signs that Amos was still in contact with his brother. After we've seen the mansion, we eat lunch. We watch TV for a bit before getting bored with it, and after consulting Khufu and arming ourselves with an appropriately lifelike adult figure shabti, we set off into New York to explore the surrounding area. That activity takes up the rest of the day, and we get back at 6:00 with sore feet and rumbling stomachs.

We then eat dinner out on the patio, Amos showing up about halfway through to join us. We chat with him when he shows up, exchanging pleasantries and talking about our days. He had been off sending Hathor back into her sleep from where she had been making random people fall in love in Central Park. There wasn't any way to reverse her love spells other than time though, so he had had to leave that alone. I keep catching him looking between Zoe and Thomas as he pretends to be our leader. Khufu joined us half way through Amos's explanation, grabbing the piece of meat that had been left to the far side of the table and chomping down on it. We finished around 7, and left the dishes and extra food to the shabti, who would clean the dishes and give the extra food to local homeless groups.

Amos settled down in the Great Room to play sax, and the three of us go back to the training room we had used this morning to spar again, this time without magic, and to exercise. Our feet are still sore from our exploration of the area around the building, so once we were finished with our spars, we lay back and did a bunch of sit down stretches. We're exhausted at the end, and climb into bed at nine. I lie with my back to Thomas and Zoe, and my face to balcony in the Great Room, their breathing lulling me to sleep easily.

* * *

We wake up the next day at seven, and eat breakfast with Amos and Khufu before Amos obliges Thomas's request and leads us to the subway, waving us off and reminding us which stop to get off at. We go to the administration office to get our schedules and one of those name tags you think aren't real until you see them, the dreaded Hi! My Name Is: tags. There, we meet Mr. Bonsai, the principal, who tells us that Amos had arranged that we stay together for all of our classes. Luckily, because of something Amos had told him about our Karma, it had worked.

Our first class is English with Mrs. Joshi, a preppy Indian woman in a navy blue sari, who immediately started us on reading Romeo and Juliet. Instead of just reading it though, she announced that we were going to put on a play for the rest of the school, and then promptly told us what our roles were. She pulled Thomas and his beanbag up to the front and looped a name tag with Romeo written over his head, then promptly placed Zoe next to him as Juliet while I watch on in amusement. I end up playing Tybalt, and watch in amusement as the teacher whirls around placing people in roles, many of the other girls complaining because they got a male part.

By the time the bell rings, everyone has their play script and a part, and Mrs. Joshi waves us cheerfully out of the classroom. Next up is our science class, with a fierce looking Russian man who gruffly tells us to call him Valeiy, even though the schedule states that we should actually call him Mr. Yakovlev. I decide to do as the teacher says and call him Valeiy, and after he gives a speech about how dangerous the chemicals are, and about how we can have lots of fun, so long as we wear the face masks and gloves provided, I decide to do as he asks. He then proceeds to explode several different things, from gunpowder, to a bubble full of hydrogen. I decide that he's pretty cool, and that I'll keep calling him Valeiy even if the principal comes around.

After that, he lets us pile our bean bags in the middle of the room so the won't get in the way, the allows us to take turns remotely releasing chlorine gas into a bowl with sodium in it under nets full of popcorn. When we're doe, he lets us eat the now salted popcorn as a snack during the last ten minutes of class time. Thomas playfully steals some popcorn out of my net of popcorn, and I ruffle his black hair in revenge, making it stick up. He scowls and ducks away as Selene laughs at him, and I smile crookedly.

Our third class is P.E., with the young, Japanese, Koizumi-san. He, unlike our first two teachers gives us something to send home to the parents, but all it really says it that he will be teaching us the way of the ninja and the samurai in the short time that he has. Some of the girls are obviously more interested in the teacher than in what he was saying from the way they were giggling together as he talked. Once he's finished with his speech, Thomas, Zoe and I start debating the merits of learning yet another fighting style other than the three we have down already (non magic, magic, and Hakudo, striking at vital points).

After that, we have lunch, and the three of us find a janitor's closet to hide and eat in. The moment we're behind closed doors we bust out laughing.

"They're so gung ho!" I gasp, tears coming from my eyes from laughing so hard. My family nods in agreement, unable to stop laughing. We manage to stop eventually, and Finnish our lunch just as the bell rings.

The fourth class we have is History, in which our teacher has the room set up so that it looks like a cave, with a fire in the middle, and he tells us stories about cave people, and how they'd discovered bodies over the years that told them about the cave people. The teacher is a young, soft spoken African man who tells us to all him Mr. Elder, who easily commands the attention of even the group of chatty girls, who listen to him with rapt expressions on their faces. Everyone gasps and pulls back when ever he throws different powders into the fire, each one changing the color and making it flare up for a moment.

Our fifth class math, with the Norwegian Mrs. Toove, who excitedly tells us that she'll be teaching us math using candy, and that when we're done, we can eat it. She hands out zip lock bags with assorted candies, and tells us to take out the Skittles. We spend the rest of the period using the and to start learning Algebra.

Our last lass as an elective, Computer class with Mrs. Campbell, who assigns us each to a computer, then starts instructing us on what to do.

"Today, class, we are going to star on your flip books," Mrs. Campbell said, clasping her hands as she walks around, her crinkled skirt swirling. She teaches us how to use Powerpoint to make animations, and then started us on making our own.

At the end of the day, when we arrive back at the Brooklyn Mansion, we're exhausted, the level of energy needed to keep up with our enthusiastic teachers having been more than we're used to. We fall together into a puppy pile on the couch in the Great Room, and don't more until Amos gets home and asks in amusement if we want any dinner today.

* * *

 _Hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

 **Chapter 7: 7: Selene**

* * *

Of course, not everything can be fun, and the very next day, one of the timid kids who had sat to the side during lunch comes up to us the next day, a serious look on his face. That alone is enough to make me nervous, and I nudge Zoe, making he turn from her conversation with Thomas and the boy draws nearer.

"Argyris Appleton, right?" Zoe asks politely, but with none of the warmth she shows to Zoe and I as she leads us in front of others for once.

"Yes," Argyris says, wringing his hands. "Have you, um, ever experienced anything, um, odd?"

"Like, um, like giant animals? Attacking you?" he mumbles nervously. My eyes narrow, and I stalk forward, my temper flaring abruptly. I grab his shirt.

"Who are you," I growl, and he goes pale, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he collapses. I catch him before he can hit the ground, and lay him out, my movements more gentle now. No point in harming the unconscious.

"Honestly Selene, you didn't have to scare him that much," Zoe chides, keeling down and placing a hand over his head. She accidentally knocks the bucket hat off Argyris's hat off, and the three of us pause to stare at the two small horns on his head. Before she can say anything, I pull one of the legs of the boy's, or rather satyr/faun's, sweatpants up, to reveal fur, and with my other hand pull his shoe off to reveal the cloven foot.

"Well, he's obviously not that old," I say sitting back. "So he's not here for sex. And he's in this school, so he probably doesn't drink. I'll count him as friendly."

I replace the pant leg and shoe, and after a moment of hesitation, Zoe does the same with his hat. We wait about ten more seconds before he comes around, looking confused, and we stop him before he tries to get up.

"Hey, hey. You just fainted," Zoe gently calms him as I help Thomas stop his struggles. Argyris's eyes flick from face to face as he stops struggling, and I make a hmph sound and back away, stopping and turning away after a couple of feet.

"So, what is a satyr doing here?" Thomas asks, Argyris goes pale again, but doesn't faint.

"I'm- I'm- I'm- I'm supos-posed to- to find- find o-o-out if you-u know know tha-that you-you're de-de-de-demi-g-g-gods,"Argyris stutters, and I turn back to the group just in time to share a three way glance with Zoe and Thomas. But he isn't finished. "I-I-I'm al-a-als-al-also s-suppos-suposed t-to to h-help you-u t-to Camp."

"Y-yes," Argyris replies, his voice a bit more confident. "Camp Half-Blood. It's, uh, for, for demigods. Kids of, um, the Greek gods, and, um, humans, or, um, mortals."

"Just Greek?" Thomas asks with some confusion in his voice, and Argyris goes pale, and starts muttering under his breath.

"Plea- um, why? Ha-have you met o-other other monsters," his voice goes up on the last couple of words, and we quickly stop him from getting up. "Please say you haven't please say you haven't."

"Calm down," Zoe tries to soothe him, as he starts getting hysterical. "Why don't you call your boss. I think we should talk to him."

"Good, good idea," Argyris says pulling out a cell phone and fiddling with it. "Chiron, Chiron, Chiron."

He selected something and his phone started doing the ringing sound phones make when they're waiting for the other side to pick up. He thrusts the phone at us and bolts, "Hereyougobye!"

Zoe grabs the phone before it can hit the ground and raises it hesitantly to her ear. "Hello? This is Zoe, Zoe Kokinos."

She looks slightly relieved before replying.

"Argyris gave me his phone."

"No, he panicked when my friend if the camp he mention was only for Greeks."

She frown slightly at whatever reply she gets.

"He said the camp was for Greek demigods, kids of Greek gods and mortals. He also said, you were his boss."

"Yes, that's a good idea. I think we might have to talk."

She nods for a moment in reply to whatever she's hearing.

"Yes, of course."

Then she hangs up.

"Well?" Thomas asks, and Zoe looks up from the phone with a frown.

"We're going to visit Camp Half-Blood tonight with Amos. Come on, let's go find Argyris. He's supposed to lead us there," she replies after a moment.

* * *

 _Later . . ._

"Turn here," Argyris says as we come up to a sign reading PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES, and Amos follows his directions. He frowns all the way stopping before we can pass a hill and drive down the road between fields up ahead.

"I'm not allowed past here," he says calmly. "I'm afraid that you're on your own now. Good luck."

The three of us exchange glances before piling out, Argyris gladly hops out of the passenger's seat, throwing a wary glace at the car like he's afraid it might eat him.

"Come on," he says after watching Amos pull away, and starts walking down the road. We start to walk down the fields and I start to relax at the feeling of protection that comes over me once we pass the hill, but before I can do much else, Thomas makes a small pained sound. I turn to see him clutching his shirt on his knees.

"Thomas?" I ask, hurrying back and crouching next to him. He waves me ooff foe a moment before changing his mod and letting me help him up. I cast a glance ahead to see Zoe following Argyris, unaware of Thomas's pain. "What is it?"

"This feels wrong," he says as he leans on me, his face pained as I help him walk. "It feels like the air itself hates me. Like I shouldn't be here."

"Sorry," I say as he manages to stand on his own. "We have to keep going though. Come on."

After a few paces he manages to stand on his own, and we jog to catch up with Zoe and Argyris. At the end of the road we find ourselves at a sky-blue house with white trim. There are two people sitting on the wrap around porch, who appear to be playing a game of chess.

"Chiron," Argyris calls. "I brought them."

"Argyris!" the man in the wheel chair replies. "I was wondering when you were going to come. You may go now if you want."

"Thank you," Argyris says. "Hello Mr. D."

"Angelo Peartown," the other man says as we draw closer. He ruuns a hand through his messy hair. "Found us some more have you?"

"Sir," is all Argyris says before he practically flees the scene.

"Now, you must be Zoe," the man in the wheelchair says, wheeling to the steps leading up to the porch. "Who are your friends?"

"This is my sister, Selene, and my best friends Thomas," Selene says simply. "Are you really the Chiron of myth, teacher of heroes?"

"Ah, yes," Chiron says. "You know your mythology then?"

"Of course," Zoe says simple, and Chiron laughs before something odd happens, like he was standing, but his legs remained unmoving, two horses legs popping out of the chair-box, the the rest of a body.

"Ah," he sighs in satisfaction before looking at us, his eyes sharpening at our bracelets. "What have we here?"

Thomas and I step forward, in front of Zoe, but Chiron doesn't step forward, merely moving his wheelchair box out of the way as he asks us in a deceptively calm voice, "May I see your bracelets, one of you?"

Thomas and I trade sharp glances, and I notice the man called Mr. D turn out of the corner of my eye as I step forward and let him see the bracelet on my wrist. He reaches up to touch it as Mr. D wanders over, a glass of Coke in his hand. Chiron reaches out to touch the bracelet, but I speak before he can do anything. "Don't take it off, please. It's very precious."

"That's ethereal silver," Mr. D says, his eyes careful as he looks at the bracelet. "Mined and forged at the same time at the volcano vents be Poseidon's finest workers, then blessed by priests of all twelve Olympians, and Hestia. Some one really likes you three, because that is rarer than any of the other blessed metals."

"Yes," Chiron mutters, examining the braided bracelet. "I suppose I should show you the orientation video now."

* * *

 **Chapter 8: 8: Zoe**

* * *

I am well aware of the eyes on Thomas through out the video, and they honestly make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I glance at the hungover guy halfway through at the revelation that he is Dionysus, but turn back when the video didn't stop. Honestly, by the end I'm more confused than I was before the video. I turn to Thomas and Selene, who are both wearing impassive faces, waiting to see my reaction.

"I thing I would like to have that talk now," say, turning to Chiron (who is apparently _the_ Chiron of legend), and he nods with a solemn face.

"Yes," he says. "So, why did you ask if this camp was only for the Greek Pantheon?"

"Because I've been trained to capture and incapacitate gods all my life," I fire back. "What are you hiding from us?"

"Enough," Dionysus says before matters go any farther. "You three are Egyptain demigods, and you centaur knew but couldn't say anything. There. Is everyone happy now? Because I want to go back to my game."

"What's wrong with the air here?" Thomas asks. "Why does it feel do wrong?"

Dionysus eyes him for a moment before sighing and staring at the ceiling. "Please, let me have a drink for this."

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Dionysus glares at the ceiling for a moment before dropping his head and pinching his nose.

"If he's here, then some one is messing with the world and it's fine," he says, more to himself than to us. "You're Roman, not Greek. Greeks hate Romans. Do the math."

Then he pokes his head up and glares at all three of us. "Though considering who your parents are, none of you should be alive to talk to me."

"You know who are parents are?" I ask. That was the one thing we hadn't been able to figure out. We couldn't match any of what I could do with the powers of any goddess. Our current running theory was that Hephaestus was the one who had responded to Selene and my parent's prayers, and . . . um . . . did you know what with my father. Because he's a god and all he could make it work. Anyways, back to Mr. D.

"Yes," the irritated wine god says, eyeing me. "Or rather I can take an educated guess. No real answer until you're claimed."

"So, what now?" I ask, looking at Chiron. "We don't need to stay here, and we do need to go back, so we aren't going to the Hermes cabin."

"Yes," Chiron says, looking contemplative before he turns and walks out of the glorified family room, motioning for us to follow him. "Come along."

We go outside, and at the railing, Chiron calls to one of the campers walking by. "Ethan! Could you please come here?"

An Asian boy with an eye patch over his left eye jogs over, giving us a once over before he turns his attention to Chiron. "Yes Chiron?"

"Would you mind showing these kids around? They won't be staying during the school year, but they need to know their way around, and I have grading to do," Chiron says, pulling a face slightly at the end of his sentence.

"I wouldn't mind," he says, turning to look at us.

"Thank you," Chiron says looking relieved as he turned carefully and walked back into the Big House.

"Come one," Ethan says, catching our attention. "If you want to see everything before dark, we've got to get moving."

"Alright," I say and use my right hand to vault over the porch railing. "We're coming."

* * *

Things don't really change after that. We go back to the Brooklyn House and keep going to school. On our weekends, we visit Camp Half-blood, and practice fighting the Greek way. We also manage to convince Mr. D to let us leave a little pyramid at camp so that we can get there quickly if we ever need to.

Christmas comes, and after it, we we find ourselves watched more closely by the people around us. I catch strangers on the subway staring at me, and homeless people or business men following me on the streets. When I ask Argyris the week after we get back from break, who taken to eating with us, he turns pale and shakes his head. Thomas comes to me later that day a bit pale and he tells me that Mr. D had told him to be careful.

Storms start happening more and more frequently, and so come floods, snow storms, and lightning bolts strong enough to start wild fires. Some times when we're sitting in the environment controlled patio at the Brooklyn Mansion, I could swear that there's a Tsunami headed for the land, reaching up and trying to tear the sky apart, but then the wave diminishes till it's simply sea foam lapping at the bank.

I don't manage to find out what's wrong until I manage to corner Chiron in May, and force him to tell me what happened. I come away feeling almost sick, because people had died over the god's squabble, over Zues's insistence that Poseidon took his lightning bolt.

When our final exams come at the end of the year, it's a relief. I'm also somewhat amazed that no monsters attacked us during the school year considering the tales that campers have told me. We finish the year with good grades, and get ready for Camp on the schedule that Iskandar had given us, with Thomas and I going to camp first, and Selene staying to watch Amos. Then one of us would switch with her after a week, and so on for the rest of the summer - or so we had hoped until Dionysus informed us that he really though Thomas should be shipped off to the Roman camp as soon as possible.

Thomas and I leave the day school gets out, straight from school to Camp. Thomas, following Mr. D's advice had nothing packed but a twenty dollar bill in his pocket. We find Chiron and Mr. D playing Slapjack on the porch, and they look up when the camp van trundles up. Mr. D give an annoyed sigh as we get out, and walk up to them, before holding a hand out to Thomas.

"Offering?" he asks, blinking his watery eyes at Thomas who quickly scrambles to get the twenty out. He places it hesitantly on Mr. D's hand, who looks at it for a moment before sighing and tucking it into the pocket of his purple tiger striped Hawaiian shirt. "Alright get your goodbyes out of the way now."

I give Thomas a watery smile and we hug for a moment, my tears seeping into the fabric of his shirt before I sniff and stand back. He gives me another smile before nodding at Mr. D.

"I'm ready."

Goodbye then Tron," Mr. D says, turning back to the cards he had placed on the table, and Thomas is suddenly gone. I blink and my breath shudders for a moment before I manage to smile at Chiron.

"Are you alright?" he asks, a concerned expression on his face, and I manage to nod.

"I'll be fine," I murmur. "I'm going grab back my place on the floor at the Hermes cabin."

With that I flee, running past several campers as my drawstring backpack bumps on my back.

* * *

 **Chapter 9: 9: Zoe**

* * *

I take a deep breath once I'm deep into the woods and force myself to slow down. I'm alone - totally alone - for the first time I can remember, and if things go as they're supposed to, it'll stay that way for the rest of the summer. The thought makes me sick as I manage to stop, and I sink down to sit with my back to Zeus's fist. My breath shudders as the tears come out of my eyes slowly, but I don't make a sound. There's still quite a bit of time left before dark by my reckoning when the tears stop, and I scrub my face to get rid of the tell tale tracks.

I force myself to stand and make my way back to camp, listening for any monsters that want to come near. when I arrive at the Hermes Cabin, I find Ethan sitting on his bunk and idly ready a book. He looks up when my shadow blocks the light coming in from the doorway and gives me a slight smile, book marking his page and standing.

"How are you?" he asks, his voice a bit sharp on the surface. I manage as smile as I grab my sleeping bag from its spot on the end of his bed.

"Fine," I reply, turning to look at the cabin floor, which is now absolutely covered, with barely an inch left free. "Though I think I'll be sleeping out under the stars again."

"You think?" Ethan snorted, raising his left hand to rub at his eye, only to drop it when he encountered the eye patch. "You haven't slept inside once since you came here!"

"Well, I guess I just like Hestia," I retort, rummaging through my backpack. It only takes me a moment to find what I was looking for, and I hold the candy bar out to Ethan. "Truce?"

Ethan glances at the candy bar before sight, and taking it, as if he would do any different. "Fine. I'm coming with you tonight though."

"What?" I ask in surprise as I pull the backpack closed. "Why?"

"I'm going with you," Ethan says, opening the candy bar. "Because you're alone tonight."

"Oh," I say quietly, and look down as my hands. My knuckles are white on the bag, and I have to force them to relax. "Thank you."

* * *

By the time the conch blew for dinner, I'd managed to get maybe a quarter of the way through one of Ethan's books, and tons of Hermes kids had piled into the cabin and were sitting on their sleeping bags chatting. Some of them come up to me, curious, but after an introduction and an explanation, they wander back to the group they came from. The conch blows, and Luke calls for the us to line up. I leave my back pack and sleeping bag on Ethan's bed as I leave.

I get one of the plates of brisket, and dump some into the flames for Hestia for allowing me to sleep next to her fire and Hermes for allowing me to eat at his table. When all the cabins had sacrificed something to the gods and eanten, Mr. D cleared his throat and stood in response to some prodding from Chiron.

"Brats," he says, sounding utterly bored of us. "You're back. Yay, or whatever. Our activities director Chiron informs me that we will be having a Capture the Flag game tonight to welcome you back. Cabin seven currently holds the laurels."

Mr. D pauses to yawn as the Apollo cabin let out loud cheer.

"Yes, yes, congratulations, blah, blah, blah," Mr. D says as he starts to st down, only for Chiron to nudge him and mutter something. "Oh, yes. I suppose I should tell you, we've got five new campers, but two of them aren't here right now. Zaria Kantor, Sandhya Kantor, Thorin Stuart, Marian Green, and Macbeth Lee."

Chiron mutters something, as i look down at the reminder of Thomas and Selene.

"Er, Zoe Kokinos, Selene Kokinos, Thomas Sanna, Mandy Gorman, and Michael Lynch," Mr. D says before he sits down. "Now go ahead and sing your silly songs."

Everyone cheered and went to the campfire where Apollo's cabin led a sing along. I managed to smile, but my heart isn't into it, and I leave early to grab my stuff and set up next to Hestia's fire in between the cabins. Ethan comes and joins me with his stuff a couple of moments later, and we stare up into the stars.

We occasionally pint out different constellations to each other in the sky, and by the time the other campers trample their way back to their cabins, I'm drifting to sleep.

My dream is a whirl wind of different colors, blues washing over my like waves and crashing down around me, only to spin and but at my hand like a dog begging to be petted.

I wake up at around seven in the morning and stumble into the Hermes cabin to throw some water at my face, stepping over campers in sleeping bags on the floor with the long suffering ease of one who has done it many times. Back outside, I quickly re-roll my sleeping bag up and after stuffing it into my back pack, which is promptly thrown into the cubbyhole I share with Thomas and Selene at the back of the Hermes cabin. Ethan copies me, after a couple of minutes as I wait for him by Hestia's fire, and when he's done, we both walk over to the pavilion.

Breakfast is the free for all buffet like usual, and I manage to eat in peace since we're here so early. I go to the big house to see if they have any good books, for lack of anything better to do, and leave Ethan sleepily eating a healthy breakfast as he stares across the table with unfocused eyes.

I wander around, looking for a library, and push open one of the doors. There's something almost familiar about the air right now, though I think it's just nostalgia about the number of times I had to go to the medical room back in Egypt. Then I blink and stare at the boy laying on the bed.

* * *

 **Chapter 10: 10: Thomas**

* * *

I blink, and suddenly all I can see are ruins. There's a growl, and I turn to find myself facing a single wolf.

"Who are you, to call yourself a child of Rome?" the wolf growls at me, teeth bared.

"Who are you to judge me?" I retort, my fingers on my bracelet.

"I am Lupa, mother of all Roman demigods, and their trainer," the wolf replies. "Mother as I was mother of Romulus and Remus. Who are you to question my authority?"

"Thomas Sanna, son of Neptune, son of Asha and Imad, brother to Zoe and Selene Kokinos," I state calmly, and Lupa stares at me for a moment before she sits back on her haunches.

"Oh, it's you."

"You know about me?" I ask, still wary.

"Son of Neptune, brother to the daughters of Hera and Hestia, of course I know about you," Lupa says. "Whether or not you are worthy is another matter."

And with that she leapt at me and I dodged to the side, my fingers already twisting to catch my dagger.

"My oh my, you have ethereal silver," Lupa says, her voice slightly mocking. "Rely upon the gods much?"

"Always," I retort, rolling to the side as she leaps at me again, and slashing at her flank.

"You can't dodge me forever!" Lupa snarls, turning and scratching my leg as I just barely get away.

"I wasn't planning to!"

* * *

"I guess you'll do," Lupa pants finally, and I let myself collapse to my knees as wolves seem to suddenly appear out of the bushes behind her.

"Thank you," I pant, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

"You don't have anything for me to teach you either," Lupa sighs, turning to nuzzle one of the wolf pups as it runs up to her. Then she turns and fixes her eyes on me. "You may not stay the night, for there is nothing here for you to learn."

"So, I'll just leave now?" I ask lightly as more wolves slip into the courtyard, and Lupa nods. I turn and start walking out

"Listen to your instincts now, they will lead you to safety," Lupa calls as I walk out, and I wave a hand slightly in acknowledgement.

* * *

It takes three days of running, hiking, stowing away, and fighting monsters before I get really annoyed. The amphisbaena were fairly easy to kill, despite their two poisonous heads because half the time one head forgot that the other was a part of itself and would attack it.

The hippalectryon on the other hand were bizarre, if only because I actually understood about half of what they were saying, when they weren't talking.

The taraxippus, who finally scared the hippalectryon I hadn't killed away were another matter all together. I don't know exactly what they were supposed to do other than scare horses, or half horse creature, but I'm fairly certain they weren't supposed to hang out around the son of the guy who made horses. If I was one of them, I wouldn't have done so and expected everything to be gung ho, but apparently they don't think so.

Also, apparently praing to you dad to get rid of they doesn't work either. How _strange._

(I hope you're getting all the sarcasm here, it is rather a lot to take in.)

Self, I hope you're taking notes.

Now that you've heard my rant, I do hope you'll understand why I was so very pissed when the two guards stopped me at entrance to the Caldecott Tunnel, the first place that's felt safe-ish to my instincts since I left Zoe. I eye them suspiciously, their image flickering slightly between the brightly clothed maintenance workers that the Duat is projecting, and the armed guards I see they are.

"Sir, you can't come in here," the one on the left says, her voice steady even as her eyes are warily trained on me.

"Oh yeah? Because I will find a way to haunt you if these kill me _or so Father help me!_ " my voice gets higher and higher as I get more and more hysterical, and starts breaking towards the end as I push past the guards and into the tunnel behind them while they're too stunned by my outburst to stop me.

"Hey wait! You can't go in there!" the girl yells, coming to her senses finally and running after me.

"Like Pluto I can't," I mutter, ignoring her as she catches up to me and starts trying to tug me back. I surge past the last of the tunnel's electrical functionality and into the older part of it built by the Romans, and lit with reed torches.

There's an odd humming in my head as something unfelt spurs me on, despite my weariness, and the girl's works fade to a buzzing in the background as I start to run, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up. I break out of the tunnel and into daylight, giving myself not even a moments rest before I'm plunging down the hill, ignoring that the guard isn't trying to stop me anymore, just running towards the safety of the water as my senses scream at me that its not safe.

I dive right into the water, and revel at the feeling of safety. This is my father's domain, and while my power leans more towards earthshaking than the sea, I am still of my father, and his domain will protect me. I open my eyes and watch, feeling strangely disconnected as two Romans plunge into the water, and immediately start fighting the current. Then suddenly the world rushes back to me as my feet connect with the river bottom, and I stand solid, anchored, and _ready_.

"Ilen En-mar!" I yell as I surge out of the water, and the taraxippus come flying towards me with an unhappy wailing, before I slash them to dust with my silver knife. I stand there panting for a moment before I turn around to look at the two roman guards behind me, who are staring at me silently as water drips from their armor.

"Hello."

My greeting drops into the silence like a stone, but it seems to wake up the other two, and the girl shakes her head slightly before she climbs out of the river, the boy quickly following her.

"Hello, I'm Gewndolyn, and this is Bobby," she offers, extending a hand, which I shake after a moment of staring at it, lost.

"I'm Thomas."

"Well Thomas, welcome to Camp Jupiter."

* * *

 **Chapter 11: 11: Thomas**

* * *

"What's happening here?" a strict voice asks, making me look away from Gwendolyn and Bobby and towards the stern looking female marching towards us.

"Preator Rani!" Gwendolyn exclaims, half scrambling out of the river, half trying to make herself more presentable, frantically twisting her dirty blonde hair in an effort to dry it. Bobby climbs out of the river behind her with a grumble, tugging his armor back into place. "I'm sorry, he just pushed past us, then the taraxipus was coming and we didn't have room to fight, so we . . . um . . ."

"We retreated. Strategically," Bobby puts in, and the girl eyes them suspiciously, but turns to me after a moment.

"And who are you?" she asks, crossing her arms under her purple cape, green eyes suspicious.

"Thomas Sanna," I reply calmly, twirling my knives and eyeing her. "And you are?"

"Rani Ezra, daughter of Epione," she says, ignoring the crowd as it gather behind her. I spot another person in a purple cape coming, but he's still a ways off. "Do you know who your godly relative is?"

"No."

"Letters of recommendation?"

"No," I state calmly, the both of us ignoring the mutterings of the growing crowd.

"Gifts, tokens, anything?" There's a slightly hopeful not in her voice now, probably hoping that Lupa didn't just send her a useless teen.

"My knives," I tell her, and she manages not to look immensely relieved as the brown haired guy in the purple cloak stops beside her.

"Who did you get it from?" the guy demands, and I notice Bobby wince out of the corner of my eye, and Gwendoly suddenly go rigid.

"I received it from Vesta," I say calmly, running a finger along the blade of one dagger. I can see the male praetor's stiff breath out of the corner of my eye as both silver daggers are suddenly gone, and the familiar bracelet is once again around my wrist. "Who are you?"

"Fion Carey," the guy says firmly, extending a a hand. "Son of Apollo."

"I'm Thomas Sanna," I repeat myself. Fion nods and turns to Gwendoly and Bobby, who are standing to attention stiffly behind me now.

"Bobby, bring him to the principia, we'll question him there," Fion states.

"Of course, Praetor," Bobby murmurs, and the two people in purple cloaks turn as one and stride off, the crown parting before them. Bobby looks up as the two leave, and the crowd starts to disperse. "Come on, Thomas was it?"

"Thomas, yes," I say, barely able to stop myself from yawning despite the bright sunlight.

"See you later Bobby," Gwen say, wringing out her hair again. "Brownies?"

"Yeah," Bobby says to her before he turns back to me and starts walking. The crowd is almost entirely gone now, only one or two people lingering to watch the new kid, and even they disperse as we start walking away. "Come on, Thomas."

I quickly follow Bobby as he stats walking towards the fortified encampment. We enter the gate, and the fist thing I notice is the large amount of purple clad ghosts hanging around. "Bobby, who are they?"

Bobby throws a glances at the kid playing with his ball in the street ahead of us, wiping away the water dripping from his black hair. "They're Lares. Hose gods, ancestral spirits, mostly mascots."

I blink as suddenly the boy runs up to me, a brilliant smile on his face as he holds out the pendant on his necklace, a trident symbol carved into wood and painted blue.

"Bother! Bother!" the boy says happily. The he reaches out, and though he doesn't look as if he should be solid, I can feel his fingers. When they touch me, I blink as I'm suddenly dry and hear paper crackle as I shift away from the boy. "Do not worry brother. I will help as much as I can. Give this to the Praetors."

Then he happily runs away, leaving my blinking. "Is that usual?"

"No," Bobby sighs, even as he pulls my arm slightly to get me moving again. "I don't think I've ever head of a Lare sponsoring a camper. I just wish he'd died me off too."

We stop at the center of camp, where two wide stone-paved roads meet at a T.

A street sign labeled the road to the main gates as Via Praetoria. The other road, cutting across the middle of camp, is labeled Via Principalis. Under those markers were hand-painted signs like; Berkeley 5 miles; New Rome 1 Mile, Old Rome 7280 Miles, Hades 2310 Miles (pointing straight down), Reno 208 Miles, and Certain Death: You Are Here!

I cast a look around at the place, taking in the bight sunlight and the clean and carefully organised buildings. Considering the setting, I think certain death is a bit of an over estimation, but considering that most kids at Camp Half-Blood don't seem to live to their thirties, maybe it's true.

"Come on," Bobby murmurs, pulling me from my thoughts and my spot in the middle of the road to a two story, white marble, bank-like structure sitting one one corner of the cross roads as I quickly look along the roads, taking in the blatant advertising (Buy one set of armor, get and extra helmet free!) on many of the stores as I do so.

Then Bobby is marching me under the purple SPQR banner and into a _very_ impressive room. The walls are draped with velvet, reminding me of a story I'd read once, and there ceiling is a glittering mosaic of the founders of Rome and Lupa. On the polished marble floor sits a large cluttered table, filled with books, parchment, computers, phones, papyrus, animal skins, chunks of rock with paintings, wood carvings, scrolls, knives, notebooks, the occasional sword, and a giant bowl of a green bubbling liquid spewing white vapor. The two preators are sitting behind it, and as we enter the room a matching set of silver and gold dogs looks up to growl at us.

"Quiet boys," Rani says absently, not looking up from the piece of paper she was filling out. She signed it with a flourish of her pen, and set it down to look up at Bobby and me, Fion doing the same beside her.

"Bobby, you can wait outside for now. Thank you for escorting Thomas here," Fion says as my eyes wander to the trophy wall behind them. There's a rather large spot for an empty display stand in the middle, and I focus on that as Bobby leaves the room.

"So, Thomas, you come to me without any letters of recommendation, no knowledge of your godly relative, and not gifts. Why should be accept you into our legion?" Rani asks, lacing her fingers together and propping her chin up on then.

"I was sent here by a god, and more recently, told to give you this," I say, pulling the paper that had appeared in my back pocket when the boy touched me out and extending it to the preators. Rani's eyes sharpen, and she quickly leans forward to snatch the paper from my fingers, and she carefully reads it, her fellow praetor doing the same over her shoulder.

"Well," she says once she's finished, leaning back and letting Fion have the paper. Her eyes are very carefully on me. "That will do. Go outside and find Bobby, he should be waiting, and go to Temple Hill. Find Calogero."

I want to groan about my heightening lack of sleep, but now that the adrenaline rush from knifing the tariappus earlier is fading, It''s all I can do to nod and obey, my limbs feeling shaky as I walk outside and find Bobby leaning against one of the columns. "Well?"

"They said to go to Temple Hill and find Calogero," I tell him.

* * *

I blink tiredly as I trudge up the hill next to Bobby, thankful for the coffee he'd gotten me on the way. I blink blearily at the many little temples along the way, but don't say anything. as we get near the top, I blink, then look around, trying to figure out what's making me feel nervous.

"What is it?" Bobby asks, apparently having noticed my agiation even as the cause occurs to me.

"Where's Neptune's temple?" I ask, tring to make my eyes clear again as I look around. "I can see Jupiter, Minerva, Mars, Pluto, Ceres, Juno, Vesta, Bacchus, Mercury, Venus, Vulcan, Apollo and Diana's temples. Where is Neptune's temple?"

"It's over there," Bobby says, pointing to a small blue temple about the size of the temples out on the edges, tiny in comparison to the temples around it. I walk towards it as if in a daze to bush spiderwebs off the trident and right it slightly before I open the door. Inside, on the altar there's a puddle of wax that looks like it might have once been a candle, and I blink at it tiredly, feeling like I'm looking at everything from underwater.

"Thomas?" Bobby asks, making me look up for a moment before my gaze returns to the altar. I shouldn't have anything on me, but I dig into my pockets anyways, and Bobby stops me after a moment with a hand on my shoulder. "Here."

He holds out a lump of gold that could have been a coin if it had anything stamped on it, and I take it. "The taraxippus left, as a trophy I guess. You defeated it, so the trophy is yours."

"Thanks," I say as I set the coin down on the altar. I lift the melted remains of the candle and its dish off the altar and set them aside before I stand and let Bobby guide me out of the temple and up the hill.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: 12: Selene**

* * *

I sigh and pick at my nails slightly. There isn't much to do around here with out the others gone, and Amos can be pretty boring to watch. I look out at the sky for a moment before I stand to walk to the library.

"Wait! Miss Selene!" a small voice calls, and I pause.

"Who is it?" I ask, turning, to look around, but there's no one there.

"Over here Miss Selene," the voice calls. "By the edge. I'm sorry it took me so long, but my legs aren't long enough-"

I grab the small shabti and turn it so I can see the seal impressed into its back. It grips my fingers tightly, but doesn't protest as I look it over carefully to make sure it wasn't sent by one of the chaos magicians. Once I'm sure that it really is from Zoe, I sit back down on he table and carefully set it down.

"Thank you Miss Selene," it says, smoothing out an imaginary fold in its clay shirt before looking up and clearing its throat. I sit forward as it's voice changes to match the cadence of my twin's. "Selene. I have a situation here. There's something they didn't tell us, and there's someone here who I thin is Thomas's little brother. I need your help. This shabti is equipped with enough to watch Amos for the summer at least before we need to return. Please come."

"That it?" I ask after a slight pause, and the shabti nods. "Alright. You go meet Amos. Don't forget to send us reports every week."

"I will, Miss Selene," the shabti replies instantly. I stand with a sharp nod and turn on my heel to enter the great hall. I don't bother with going the long way round, simply push off the ground with a grunt of "Fly!" to send me soaring through the air before I land of the railing of our balcony. I grab the packed back pack I keep on the balcony and jump down before the magic wears off. I shift myself into the Duat as I fall, and land in a crouch on the hill with Thalia's Pine. I pull the strap of my back pack over my shoulder as I stand. I look around, but no one seems to have noticed me.

I sigh and start walking down the hill to the Big house. I can hear yelling as I get closer, but it doesn't really hit me until I open the back door.

"-And you never thought that we might be interested in that information? Sure Thomas may not have been claimed, but that sounds pretty much like this kid's situation, except for the small fact that we do know that the god are real, and we knew where to find them! If anything I want to know why they're pushing all the blame off on this kid, who still doesn't know that the Greek gods are real!" Zoe is shouting as Chiron, who looks like he wants to interrupt her, but can't find any room in her rant to get a word in, while Mr. D is just sitting back in his hair with his coke in hand.

"Zoe," I say, and she instantly stops, turning around to see me.

"Selene!" she says, sounding relieved and tired. "How was Aren?"

"You named that shabti Aren?" I ask, shifting my weight and letting her wrap her arms around me.

"Yes, did he work fine? He was a bit of a rush job," she says, pulling back.

"He worked fine," I reply. "Really polite. So, what's up? I heard something about a boy and how we should be blamed for something."

"Zoe is mad at us-" Chiron starts before casting a glance at Mr. D, who looks totally oblivious to our conversation - "me for not telling you three that Zues's Master bolt was stolen over Christmas break."

"And what was that about a boy, and blame?" I ask.

"A boy came to the camp last night, and Zoe is mad because the god are blaming him rather than your group for stealing the lightning bolt despite the fact that he was unaware of the god's current existence, then and now," Chiron continues.

"Yes, I can see why that might be a problem," I comment dryly, before I turn to Zoe. "And what was that about Thomas's brother?"

"The boy who came in is a child of Poseidon," Mr. D comments.

"Thank you," I say fishing some money out of one of my pockets and handing it to him before Chiron's disbelieving eyes. "Alright. Chiron - we _were_ in Manhattan over Christmas. Having some waning that we might be accused of crime would be nice. Zoe, relax. There's nothing we can do to shift the blame. The gods are stubborn-"

I give Mr. D another five as I say that.

"- and by now they've decided that it was this Poseidon kid, no matter who actually did it. For now, let's just protect him as best as we can."

Mr. D laughs into the sudden silence that comes after my straightforward laying out of my plan.

"I like you," he says, eyeing me over the top of his coke can as he brings it to his lips. "You should do stuff like that more often."

"Thank you," I reply, slightly uncertain as to why he was complimenting me, but willing to take it. "Chiron?"

The centaur sighs. "I apologize for not warning you of the possible danger that the theft presented to you. I'll try harder to warn you should something that might affect you occur."

"Thank you Chiron," I say, before I turn my gaze to me twin. "Zoe?"

"I apologize for yelling at you Chiron," Zoe says. "I know the gods are stubborn, but I do wish to know if I am in any danger."

"Alright," I say. "Zoe, can I see this boy?"

"Sure," she says, and she pulls me towards the infirmary. I wave goodbye to the old Centaur and the God before I disappear behind a door.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: 13: Zoe**

* * *

I open the infirmary door and slip into the clean white space. Selene follows behind me, closing the door behind her and looking around the room.

"We need to cut our hair soon," she comments with a frown as she pulls the hair so that the curl straightens out. "My hair's starting to get in my eyes."

"Yeah," I say softly, not really looking at her as my eyes gravitate on the kid lying in bed. His eyes are closed right now, and his skin is much lighter than Thomas's with more of the Greek complexion, but there's a sense of familiarity despite that. I brush his hair back, then step backwards so that Selene can look at him. "His name is Percy Jackson."

She steps forward to stand beside me, and stares at the boy with a blank face.

"So this is Thomas's brother," she muses. Then she turns abruptly and walks out. I cast the boy a glance before I hurry after her, ignoring Chiron as I sprint to through the house and towards Thalia's Pine.

"Selene, wait up!" Selene ignores my calls, throwing herself down to sprawl across the roots of Thalia's Pine. I walk the last couple of steps and sit down next to her. After a moment, I lean back against the tree with a quick prayer to Thalia, thanking her for her shade and protection. If Selene feels bad enough about something to run off like this, then she won't talk until she's ready. The first time she got like this was when she had her first period, and woke to blood all over her sheets.

"Zoe, that boy's our responsibility now," she says, and I turn so I can see the shadows cast by Thalia's Pine dance over her face as she stares upwards. "Some one's life - that's _so much_ responsibility."

"It is a lot of responsibility," I agree, turning my eyes back up to the sky.

"I just - I don't know what to do," Selene continues. "The most I've been trusted to do was watch Amos, and that was shared with you and Thomas."

"Well, you know what I'll say."

"Step follows step, hope follows courage. Set your face towards danger, set your heart on victory," we recite, and I smile as I feel her take my hand. The saying is't one we say often, but it's one that almost always fits. It's frown "The Two Princesses of Bamare", and we consider the words instructions when backed into a corner.

"So, what's your first step," I ask Selene.

"First, I'm going to see the Oracle," she declares, sitting up and brushing off her clothes.

"And then?" I sat, letting her pull me up.

"Then I'm going to go on the Oracle's quest?" she says, a little uncertainly.

"Good enough for now," I say. "But first, let's go and get our hair cut. We might be able to catch some of the Aphrodite campers to help us."

* * *

I watch Selene stumble out of the attic with sympathy. She sits down heavily on one of the cushioned chairs, and shakily accepts the glass of grape juice I paid Mr. D for.

"Anything I should know," I ask gently, and Selene's face seems to pale under her dark skin. Chiron leans forward, watching her with a look of slight curiosity on his face.

"I can't say anything," she states, her voice as shaky as her hand as she sets the glass of juice on the table before it spills.

"Do you know if you are to go on a quest?" Chiron inquires gently as stand from my seat and move to sit with Selene in hers.

"Yes," Selene replies, looking up from entwining her fingers with mine. "Ethan, Zoe and I are to go on a quest."

"Anything-"

"I can't say anything else," Selene immediately interrupts, shaking her head sharply. "Can I go now?"

"Yes, of course," Chiron says, absently waving a hand. "Do you want and help?"

Selene is already shaking her head. "We'll leave the day after Percy wakes up, with standard quest supplies."

"If you're sure," Chiron replies, and she nods.

"I'm going to go tell Ethan," she says, before she practically flees the room. The clock ticks on in the silence before Chiron sighs and turns to me.

"If I might ask, how are you planning to travel?" Chiron asks me, and I fiddle with the charm bracelet that sits on my left wrist, with a variety of Egyptian symbols that my mother had given to me uncertainty the night before I left for my Nome assignment.

"I was planning to travel using the Duat," I tell him after a moment, and there's a moment of awkward silence. "Was there anything else?"

"No. But if you have any questions . . . ?"

"Not really," I say, edging towards the door before a thought comes to me, making me stop and turn back towards Chiron, who is looking sadly up at one of the trophies decorating the house. "Actually, what exactly is ethereal silver? Or rather, how is it special? I know what it is, but what makes it special?"

"Well," Chiron replies, looking slightly startled. "Ethereal silver is different from the other metals in that it can kill Lycantropes - werewolves. Like Sygian Iron, it can harm both mortals and godly beings. I think - here."

He pulls a book down from one of the shelves that lay against the wall, and I take it after a moment of surprise. It's not heavy or thick, but there's the sort of weight to it that means it's important. Chiron nods in a satisfied manner as he steps back. "There. That book should tell you all you want to to know."

I look back down at the book again before I carefully lift the cover to see the title on the page below.

 _A Guide to Godly Ores: Edition 4000_

"Thank you," I grin at him. He smiles back and ushers me out the door. My happiness fades quickly though, and my mouth quickly falls to a frown as I start towards the fire pit in the middle distance, where I can see three people sitting.

* * *

 **Chapter 14: 14: Thomas**

* * *

I slowly come to myself, the darkness around me fading into focus with brilliant creatures glowing and moving.

"Hello?" someone calls, their voice echoing.

I turn at the voice, interrupting the silence to see a boy about my age, but with lighter skin and less curly hair floating behind me in the water.

"Hello?" I ask, and the boy turns and looks at me with startled sea green eyes.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Thomas. Thomas Sanna. Who are you?"

"Percy Jackson. What are you doing here?"

I shrug. "I'm dreaming. You must be important if you're here."

The boy blinks at my response before he sits down, or at least makes the motions with a sigh. "Great. Lightning, man-bulls, my mom dying, my best friend turning out to be half goat, and now my dream telling me that I'm a dream."

"Don't worry," I say. "Things will just get worse from here. Today will be just another day in comparison."

Percy rolls his eyes. "Not helping."

I laugh. Then I blink as I realize that the water around us is getting lighter. "Do you see that?"

"See what" Percy asks, but I can see him looking up to, towards the turbulent water high above us. Suddenly we're accelerating upwards even faster, and we burst out of the turbulent water and find ourselves thrown on a shore. I scramble back into the water before I can think of it at the sound of animals fighting and crying out in pain. I blink the water out of my eyes even as I try to stay in the water as much as I an, and blink at the fighting animals before me.

There's a giant eagle and an equally large owl attacking a horse that keeps snapping at them and lashing out with it's hooves, but it can't fight both of them at once, and there are numerous long scratches along its body.

"I had a dream like this before," Percy says, just barely audible over the sound of the animals fighting, and I turn to look at him. He's still looking at the animals fighting. "The owl wasn't here last time."

* * *

"Hey, wake up."

I open my eyes and yawn.

"What happened?" I ask blearily. The man before me smiles as Bobby helps me to my feet.

"He accepted you into the Legion," Bobby replies, stopping me from falling as I waver. "Then he prattled on about fortune and luck for a good half hour as you slept."

"It wasn't prattle!" Calogero squawks. "Not a word I said was false! So what if I was a bit more thorough then I am with most people?"

"You told him he's the twin without a twin, child of lily, seller of hay, and that he should have had large teeth," Bobby says critically.

"That's all name meanings," I say with a yawn before Calogero can protest his innocence. "Names are sometimes thought to be a prediction of the future."

"Exactly," Calogero nods as Bobby lets go of my arm cautiously. "Though I did extrapolate some, I think that if you had a twin, they would have been her with you."

"I don't have a twin," I reply after a moment. But my life is tied to the lives of a set of twins."

"Your life is tied to someone else's?" Bobby asks after a moment of silence that I spent tearing my eyes away from the flames in one of the briers.

"Yes. Is that bad?"

"It's odd," Calogero says, a frown on his face. "I think the only instance of something like that I've heard of was with Meleager."

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Well, you two should be going now. Muster will be happening soon."

"Thanks Calogero," Bobby says. "Come on, Thomas. I might be able to get you armor if we leave now."

We sprint down the hill past the various temples.

"Can I . . . use . . . my own armor?" I ask as we run.

"If you . . . have it," Bobby replies, and I grin at him.

"I . . . have it."

Several minutes later, we dart into the last set of barracks, and I pause at the door to watch Bobby fight his way through the crowd to one of the beds. I stand still uncertainly for a moment before I fight my way through the changing kids calling out names and demanding people give their armor back.

"What do I do now?" I yell to be heard, and Bobby glances up from pulling his chain mail on.

"If you do have armor, put it on now!" he shouts back, and I shrug, a quick moment of concentration allowing me to change my clothes out for the armor I have stored in the Duat. A quick look around shows me that my armor is exactly not anything at all like the Roman's armor, and I want to sigh at the idea of getting a third set to wear. Bobby tightens a strap and looks up at me, his expression incredulous as he takes in my Egyptain set of armor. "What in Pluto's name is that?"

"Armor," I reply, my voice lower now that people were starting to file out of the room. I sigh as I look down. The overlapping pieces of leather traditional to Egyptain armor aren't dyed, but in comparison to the Roman plate armor that most of the people around me seem to be wearing, it stands out. "Hold on a moment - there."

There's another quick switch and I shift at the weight of my Greek armor.

"How'd you do that?" Bobby asks with wide eyes. "I though you were Neptune's son."

I shrug and use the excuse Mr. D had told all of us to use if we were ever asked about our Egyptain abilities. "I have some old talents from Trivia that flared up, probably because I'm a demi-god."

"Well you seem to have found good use for your talents. Do you have a shield to go with that?"

"No one that could be used in the legion," I say, and Bobby's eyes gleam.

"Bobby!" Gwendolyn calls. "Come on, time to line up."

"Go it," Bobby calls back before turning to me. "We're getting you your equipment after this."

There's the dark gleam of promise in his voice as we go out finally.

* * *

 **Chapter 15: 15: Selene**

* * *

I look up from the card I'd placed down on the pile with a frown, the sound of hooves alerting me to the satyr moment before he arrives, a pale looking boy trailing uncertainly behind him.

"Cheet," Chiron calls, making me turn back to the cards, and I grin as I realize that Zoe had been caught.

"Mr. Brunner!" the boy calls as Zoe pulls the cards towards herself, grumbling.

"Ah, Percy!" Chiron says brightly, turning now. Mr. D is eyeing his cards, and after a moment's thought, he quickly puts one down before Chiron can turn back. "Would you like to join us? We're playing Cheet!"

The boy carefully sits down on the bench next to Mr. D, and Chiron gives Mr. D a brief but viscous glare. "I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," the boy says, inching ever so slightly farther from Mr. D as Chiron places a card down on the table.

"Cheet!" I call, and Chiron sighs, but pulls the two cards on the pile back towards himself.

"How'd you know this time?" he asks, putting the two card into his deck.

"You sort your cards Chiron. I've told you that five times now."

"Yes, well," Chiron shakes his head as he sets down his cards. "Zoe, Selene, Ethan, this is Percy. Percy, Selene is the young lady wearing red, and Zoe is the one wearing orange. They are, ah . . . friends of someone we believe to be your sibling. You three, if you would be so kind as to make sure Percy has a spot somewhere, it would be most kind."

"Sure Chiron," I reply, setting my cards down on the table. Zoe eyes the card suspiciously as she sets her down, then silently hand Mr. D a five dollar bill. Ethan stands with us, and the three of us head into the Big House.

It's easy enough to grab an extra sleeping bag, and I also grab a few of the other necessities that Percy probably wasn't able to bring given his manner of arrival. Then we head out of the cabin and cut across the grounds to the fire in the middle of the cabin green that we always sleep around.

I blink slightly as I realize that something had changed.

"Did you put in this?" I ask the girl who's almost always there during the day, and she smiles at me.

"Yes, you keep sleeping out here, and I thought it would be nice for you not to have to keep going back and forth between here and the Hermes cabin."

"I'll still have to use their bathroom though, but thanks," I smile at her. I turn to the cubicles and blink to find them already labeled.

"You labeled them too, thanks," Ethan notes quietly. He smiles as he pulls the one labeled as his open to find his stuff inside.

"You're welcome," the girl replies as she prods the the fire, then heaves another log into it. Zoe pulls the one with Percy's name on it open and stuffs the sleeping bag in before standing back to let me drop the all important demi-god supplies (toothpaste, a toothbrush, _deodorant_ , as well as the Acne prevention cream that the Aphrodite campers insist each cabin has) in and kick it shut. "They should only open for for the person whose name is on them."

"You did just see me open that, right?" Zoe asks abrasively, but not unkindly.

"Well, you have to put his stuff in there, right? It's not like there was anything in there?" the girl says lightly. I frown slightly before I open my mouth to ask the girl her name and her parent when the sound of hooves interrupts me.

"Hey! Chiron!" Zoe hollers, waving at the Centaur.

"Zoe," Chiron greets my twin sedately as he nears, a confused looking Percy trailing along next to him. "I see you have storage space now."

"Yes, apparently we've slept out here long enough that Hestia decided that e should have our own space," I say, momentarily looking around for the girl, but she must have left while I was distracted because it's just the five of us.

"Yes, well, I've got my master's archery class to get to, so if you would be kind enough to show Percy the rest of camp?"

"Of course," I reply before Zoe can think of a smart remark. Chiron nods before turning and trotting off to disappear behind the Hermes cabin.

"Well," Ethan starts, getting Percy's attention. "Where has Chiron shown you already?"

"The dining pavilion, the fields, archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables, the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena," Percy says, his voice coming out stronger than he looks, though that was something I half expected. We'd been feeding him nectar and ambrosia for a couple of days now, if he wasn't better, something was wrong.

"Alright," Ethan says, nodding absently. "That just leaves the cabins."

"You haven't even told him where he's sleeping yet," Zoe says before we can move, patting the storage unit. "You'll be sleeping out here. All your stuff should be in here. Mind, that only means the stuff we grabbed for you. Hope you like minty-fresh toothpaste."

"I'll manage," Percy replies, looking better almost by the second now. "But, no cabin?"

"Nah," Zoe shakes her head. "Like Chiron said, you're our friend's sibling, until you're decided, you're stuck with us. Or rather, you're free from the rest of the camp because we'll be leaving soon."

"So, cabins," Ethan starts before anyone else can say anything. "Chiron's been teaching you for the last year, so give them your best guess."

"Um," Percy blushes. but obediently turns to look at the cabins. I take a sharp note of the way his eyes linger on Cabin 3 in much the same way as Thomas's had, which sends a burst of pain through my chest that I breath through as he points towards Cabin 1. "That's Zues's right? And the one next to it is Hera's, his wife's then."

Ethan doesn't say anything, simply modding when Percy glances in his direction. Percy takes a deep breath before he turns back to the cabins and names them off one by one, growing more confident as he gets them correct. He names the Hermes cabin last, with a grin from Zoe. "That's right. Tidbit- the Hermes cabin is the one you would have gone to if we weren't here."

"Thanks," Percy replies.

"Bully alert," Zoe grumbles, making me look up to see Clarisse stalking towards us.

"Wonderful."

* * *

 **Chapter 16: Chapter 16**

* * *

I'm putting this on hiatus so I can concentrate on fewer stories. I'm sorry.

* * *

 **Chapter 17: Chapter 17**

* * *

Hi. This is abandoned, and will go to my Dribbles story tomorrow. I apologize.


	4. Ignoring Fire:Eragon

Title: **Ignoring Fire**  
Category: Books » Inheritance Cycle  
Author: Morgan K'Treva  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Friendship/General  
Published: 02-14-16, Updated: 11-05-16  
Chapters: 8, Words: 13,321

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

* * *

Some say that the world will end in fire. Some say it will end in ice. Personally, I don't favor one over the other, for all I care, we could go up in a big explosion that's the next big bang, or everything could simply . . . stop. All the energy used up, no more expansion to be done, temperatures dropping to the complete zero. Good bye.

Of course, you didn't come here for my views on how the world will end (and if you did, wow. Way to be pessimistic.), so I should probably tell you about myself.

Hi, you can call me Morgan, a werecat typical of werecats (not that that you know what hat means because we're so rare), or at least I was. Though it's rather hard to be typical of a race that never sees each other, always does the best they can to be individual, and of which there are maybe a hundred at most. But I digress.

Personally, I'd always loved the mountains and the deserts, so as soon as I was able, I left my mother's side to live there. *Disclaimer! Do not try this at home!* That is most likely where my story begins. But it did take a good couple of centuryies. So I basically just wandered the sand, and met with the wild dragon. And then Galbatorix happened, and I found myself in the resistance.

The wild dragons were killed, another one every day, and the riders came up with a plan to hide all the eggs they could find. Because I lived in the desert for so long, and knew all of those who flew in the sky above it, the dragons trusted me even above the dragon riders. So I was the one who flew with the wild dragons and helped them load the multitude of eggs and Eldunari into the carriers. We didn't manage to get all of the eggs from their hiding places, but by the time Galbatorix thought to search for them, he could only find three.

I kept my memories of the Vault of Souls because of the difference between my mind and that of and elf's, or a human's, and I watched as one by one the wild dragons died, and my allies fell into hiding, until it had been years since there had been any attacks. Those in the know held their breath, waiting for the new dragon rider to come, for the blue egg that had been stolen from Galbatorix to hatch. I ran alongside Arya, Fäolin and whichever elf accompanied them while they crossed the desert, and protected them.

Then, after a decade of waiting, something happened to me. Every adventure story has a call to adventure, right?

* * *

I trace the lines of metal that spiral around themselves and build into a tree, once again, marveling at the delicate art, and grateful to the tribe for allowing me shelter. I look up as a child ducks into the tent.

"Tagheer-no," the child says respectfully, ducking his head slightly. "Sheik wishes to speak to you."

"Thank you," I say gently to him, standing and quickly tying my keffiyeh. The child smiles at me and scampers out. I follow him, squinting against the sun, and make my way to the Sheik's tent.

I rattle the entrance flap, their way of knocking, and the Sheik pulls it open and motions for me to come in.

"Sheik Fadi," I say, giving him a respectful nod, and he does the same.

"Tageer-ra," he says straightening. "We found something you might be interested in."

"What is it?" I ask, sitting up straighter, and Fadi motions for the servant standing behind him to come forward. I watch with sharp eyes as she sets a wooden box down on the carpet between us, and as Fadi slides the box's lid open, before pushing it towards me. I glance at him before I look down, and can't hold back a gasp at the sight before me.

"This is a dragon's egg!" I exclaim, looking up at Fadi. It was to be expected that some of the wild dragon's eggs escaped both Galbatorix and the dragon riders, but I'd never expected to find one.

"So we were right," Fadi says, sighing in relief as I look back down into the box at the silvery egg. Before I can say anything though, he pushes the box further towards me. "Take it. I want nothing to do with it."

"Fadi," I pause for a moment, unsure of what to say. "You know that there will be no rider for this dragon. If you found the egg out here, then it will not have belonged to the Dragon Riders."

"All the same," Fadi says, reaching over to close the lid of the box. "Galbatorix will kill for any egg he can get his hands on. We don't need that sort of trouble."

I look down at the box before I nod. "Alright. I'll take it."

"Thank you," Fadi says fervently as the both of us stand and he pulls the flap of his tent open for me. I shift my grip on the box and nod. I walk slowly back to the tent that had been granted to me for the night, and I pack. The box with the egg I stuff into the furthest reaches of my bag. I quickly fill my canteen with water from the pitcher they'd provided, and my bag with the various foodstuffs they'd given me and pull both on. I take one look around the room before I slip out, leaving everything untouched.

If Fadi was that worried, then something's up, and I'm not going to implicate the tribe. I start walking in the direction of the next oasis.

* * *

I look up at the stars and sigh, shivering in my clothes. The change is quick, and I wiggle out of the confining clothes and the two straps, and curl up on top of them. I'll go on tomorrow. My last thought is for the stars overhead.

* * *

There's a squeak, and I startle to full awareness, scanning the desert quickly. The squeak comes again, and I move carefully to cover the wooden box deep in my bag as I transform back into human form and grasp the dagger hilt inside my bag. Another squeak comes, and I blink as I realize it's coming from beneath me, right where the egg is. I blink for a moment before I scramble I dig the box out of my bag. Another squeak comes just as I pull it out, and I blink at the box before I carefully slide the lid off.

"What are you doing?" I mutter as I stare at the oval stone resting in the box. I pick it up, shivering slightly in my human form, and set the silvery egg down on the shirt I'd scrambled out of hours ago and change back as I settle down to watch the egg. It squeaks again, and starts rocking rapidly. Then suddenly the top cracked violently, and I barely manage not to jump. Then it cracks again and again, before the cracks suddenly stop, and a small piece at the top drops into the egg. There was an undignified squawk, this one sounding startled, before a small silver muzzle pokes out of the hole, and the egg rocks to the side do that the hole is facing me.

The dragon spills out of the egg with another undignified squawk. I laugh slightly, still staring in awe at the little one before me. It blinks at me once before it starts turning and licking the membrane off of itself. Its rather smaller than most of the other baby dragons I've watched being born, but that's to be expected with the size of its egg.

"Hello little one," I breathe, not reaching out to tough the dragon after long years of experience in working with the wild dragons. The dragon make a sort of sneezing sound, which rattles its body and makes its wings spread. I laugh a little, and he dragons blinks at me again with eyes like liquid silver. Then it advances towards me with a purpose, and that movement jars me, reminding me that its mother isn't here, and that it'll be depending on me for food and protection. I make sure not to touch it as I walk past it and grab the bag of provisions from the pile of items I'd scattered in my haste to get the egg out of the bag. I change back into my human form to open the bag, shivering in the freezing desert, and quickly change back into a cat once the bag is open, and I drag it back to the little dragon.

I turn to look at the dragon, only to find it right behind me. Before I can move, it buts my leg with its head, and I gasp as suddenly a rush of icy energy flows through me, changing the magic I've held and known for all my life, increasing the amount of magic I have, and changing me a a fundamental level, making me more compatible with it.

I gasp out of surprise and shock and _how is this happening to me_ as the liquid fire fades away inside me, leaving me shaking. The dragon, still staring at me, lets out a pathetic mewl, and head buts me again, making me startle. On autopilot, I pull the food bag closer so that the dragon can reach it, and it lets out an excited squawk and falls onto the dried meat in the bag, stuffing itself full. I can feel it reaching out with its mind tentatively, and when I hesitantly reach out in return, it looks up from the food with an excited squeak. The tendril from its mind follows my reach and wraps possessively around my mind, crowing _mine! mine! mine!._ I can't help but laugh slightly even as I start planning.

I let myself sprawl as I start making plans, ignoring the possibility that the dragon had chosen me for nir rider (that's not how it works). I blink when suddenly something buts into my stomach, and I find the little dragon curled up against me, eyes closed and content, silver hide reflecting the stars and moon above.

 _I should probably visit Kian some time soon._

* * *

 _I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. So, what do you think of Morgan? And what gender do you think ne is?_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Chapter 2**

* * *

"Come on," I murmur, baiting my charge forward with a bloody strip of rabbit. It's been a month, and she's been hunting for her own hunting for her own food, but that doesn't stop her from coming begging for treats. I smile up at her as she eagerly grabs the meat out of my hand and scarfs it down. I smile at her, and she tilts her head before echoing the smile back, her lips drawing back to show her teeth in what would have been a frightening gesture if I hadn't seen her do it so many times. Then she turns back to the deer she'd managed to drag down and kill today.

 _Morgan._ There's a sort of a knocking sensation on my shields accompanying the name, and I let her in with a smile. She sends me an image of me smiling before she pushes a rush of memories towards me and sits back, bouncing in excitement as I sort through them.

The first is fuzzy, and I find myself watching as I point at myself and hearing an echo of my voice saying "Morgan." while images of the letters, then an image of a small tide pool next to the ocean flash before my eyes.

I smile slightly at the memory, remembering it as the first time I'd tried to teach the silver dragon my name, before I move onto the second memory.

This one is more of a patch work of things put together than an actual memory, but I follow it. First there's an image of the sun beating down on the desert, then an image of the mountains in the distance, and finally a shaky memory that I recognize as my memory of the ocean. Then, almost as an after thought comes a jumble of sylables picked liberally from what I've spoken.

 _ **Fells**_ _mountain_

 _Fells?_ I ask, and the silver dragon, who had looked up from the deer carcass to watch me, raises her front leg awkwardly to pat her chest like I had patted my chest when I was telling her my name.

 _Fells,_ she proclaims proudly, repeating what I had said just moments before. I smile.

 _Nice to meet you Fells._

* * *

"Morgan," Kian greets as I approach him, and I bow my head as he continues. "Ruler of the Night Sky, Wanderer of the Desert, Kin to Dragons, why have you come to me?"

"Well, it could have something to do with the shadow in the sky," I state calmly, looking up. "Kian Eldest, Ruler of the Far Reaches, Fast of Heart, and Augur of All That Has Passed. You will not know if you don't look up."

Kian looks up from his drawings in the dirt, his purple eyes suspicious before he raises his head to look at the sky. I don't need to look to know that Fells is immediately visible as she flies lazy circles over the corner of the Beor mountains that Kian had decided to make his own.

"Morgan, this is exactly why we call you Kin to Dragons," Kian states frankly, his tail twitching in irritation as his eyes track Fells's silver form. "But just because we call you that does not mean you need to live up to your name and do impossible tasks. So, what's your hatchling's name?"

"If it were impossible, then it would not have happened," I state archly. "Every one knew there that we hadn't found all of the eggs. There was always the possibility that one of them would be found and would hatch. And her name is Fells. She wants to be desert mountain ocean."

"Once again, the possibility of that happening now was as high as the possibility of a giant lake in the middle of that precious desert of yours," Kian hisses, his eyes tracking Fells as she glides towards us. Then he pauses and shoots me a glance. "And don't think that I don't know what you being here with her means."

"Why does me being here make any difference?" I ask archly, raising an eyebrow. "I cannot be a rider, that's not possible. the contract between dragons and riders hasn't been changed, and if it were, I highly doubt they would have included werecats. We have already been refused."

"As if dragons can't choose their riders."

"As if I would be chosen."

"You're forgetting who gave you the name 'Kin to Dragons'," Kian snorts, raising one front leg to shield his eyes as Fells's wings blow up dust. "I was honestly surprised that none of the wild dragons had laid their claim to you, let alone that none of the younglings hadn't."

I open my mouth to reply, then blink as a sense of smug satisfaction hits me, and I glance up at Fells as she bends her head down to nuzzle at my fur.

 _Mine._ she states smugly, and I forget the argument as I flow into my other form to give her a scratch above her eye ridge. She leans into my fingers like a cat, nearly bowling me over and making me laugh as I scratch harder. It takes me a moment to remember Kian, but he isn't angry when I turn back to him, simply resigned.

"That is exactly it, sibling," he says gently. Then he shifts like water and holds out both hands. "Let me see."

I hesitate for a moment, but it's easy to see that delaying will be no help, and I sigh as I hold out my right hand and let him examine it. I don't look, fairly certain that I know what's there, and determined to at least have the uncertainty for a few more minutes. I managed not to look at my palm for two months, a few more minutes is no hardship. Kian releases my hand after a moment, but I leave it there, used to the way he examines things.

The a chuckle comes, and I can't stop myself. After two months, I finally look down to see the gedwëy ignasia shimmering on my palm, and I shiver, but before I can say anything or move my hand so I can't see it, Kian grabs my hand, and I watch as suddenly the silver on my palm is gone.

". . . you've got to be kidding me."

 _What? I thought you'd like it._ Fells says, puffing a bit of smoke over me. _It'll be harder to find this way._

". . . you have _got_ to be _kidding_ me."

"How are you liking the other side of the problem, sibling dearest?" Kian asks as he releases my hand and changes back to a cat, flicking an ear slightly. "Not so much fun now, is it?"

"No, no, no, no, no, it does not work that way," I try to protest, but Kian gives me a pointed look.

"Dragons do what dragons want," he says smugly.

"Fine. Whatever. so, what's going to happen now?" I ask him as he returns to his dirt symbols.

 _Fly with me?_ Fells offers hopefully.

"Long term, I meant," I say, gently scratching her eye ridges. _I can fly with you later._

 _Fine._

"Well, you're obviously not a fighter-"

"What gave it away?" I ask sarcastically, but Kian ignores my interruption.

"So there's no reason to contact anyone."

"And the elves? I know they have a claim on the next dragon rider."

"Do you truly think that he elves can teach you any more than what you already know?" Kian asks sarcastically. "I mean I'm sure there's some trick you haven't taught them, maybe they can teach you how to sing perhaps."

I have to smile at that. "Point."

"Thank you. Besides, the desert is the best place for you to hide. You have lived there for centuries, and the shifting sands will cover your tracks. I doubt that any would be able to find you easily, even with magic. Not to mention the fact that Fells probably loves it."

"She does," I say, relieved that I won't be forced away from my home.

"Then go," Kian urges with a smile. "You'll know if you are needed."

"Are you quite sure?" I ask.

"Quite sure. Live as you want to," Kian says. There's an odd look to his eyes now as his tail curls forward to cover his paws. "Say hello to Solembum if you see him, yes?"

"Of course," I say automatically. Then I blink as his word catch up to me. "You think I'll see him?"

"Why would I have asked you otherwise?" Kian says before he waves a dismissive paw at me. "Go. Have fun. Live."

* * *

Alright, so this may be confession time. Mainly; I am the second eldest werecat alive still, and I remember the times before Elves, Humans, and Urgals were here. I also remember a time before the dwarves moved to their mountains. Originally, I wandered the Beor mountains, only occasionally walking the the very much smaller Hadarac desert before the dwarves were forced to move to the mountains as the climate shifted. And my age is more on the side of millennia than centuries.

But hey, there's always time for confessions.

I'll admit that I do entirely deserve the name given to me by those who saw me around dragons. The title Kin to Dragons hadn't been entirely for my many supposedly impossible feats, but rather for the way the wild dragons treated me.

When the elves first came, we ignored them. I watched them at times, curious about these strange creatures who look so much like the dwarves, but my attention was fleeting. But then they killed with their magic and their spells, and the dragons hunted down the one responsible in their fury. I was often left as a last line of defense during the long years it took for the war to come to a close, when those old enough to spit fire for a minute left to fight and kill the elves.

I was not there when the elves came in the night and shattered so many of our eggs with their harsh magic, but any sympathy I had for them was washed away in my pain, and then my fury. I threw myself onto the nearest dragons back as she cried out in pain, the hollow left by the connection of her neck to her back large enough to hold me with out any need to secure myself, and as one the thunder winged back to rock. We had been away to discuss the possibility of me speaking for us, but that died a sharp death at the sheer agony.

I only half remember the rest of that night, collapsing onto my knees next to a youngling I had talked to happily just minutes ago, who had only just started breathing flames. Beside her was the shattered egg of her brother, green shards scattered around the curled corpse of a small green dragon who had never had a chance to live.

There were so many others, the newly hatched youngling with his brains dashed on the rocks, golden eyes unfocused, the silver egg smaller than my palm shattered, and the for withing trampled, blue eggs and black eggs, and purple eggs and the broken wings of their siblings. Every where there was blood, and my ears echoed with the mourning howls of thee dragons as they found their younglings dead.

Two years passed before the dragons let me out of their sight, and another year passed before they allowed me to fight. And on the first thunder I rode out with, I saw them, we all saw them, the young white dragon, not old enough to fight, and the small elf on his back, both of them trying to stop us from fighting each other.

I gave a cry, as they dove through our ranks, sending us floundering, and below us the elf desperately cast a shield, trying to protect us from the spells thrown at us by his own people. I remember not thinking, just acting because _there is a child save him save him,_ diving off of _brightscalelongclawfishhunter_ and landing heavily on the white youngling, just behind the startled elf. My hands clamped onto his shoulders, and he gave a shout, but held onto the power I fed into him, managing to maintain his shield until the thunder could get away.

He slumped against me in the saddle as he shield abruptly dropped, and the dragon gave a frightened-worried-angry call and quickly winged up and away from the elves on the ground. I instinctively reached out for his mind as I had done with all others but the elves before him, and was unprepared for the flinch and backlash when he refused and pushed me away, and it knocked me unconscious.

I didn't wake for hours, and I found the elf looking at me in contemplation.

"Ono waíse breoal abr skulblaka?" he asked me after we stared at each other for a while, but I knew nothing of the language he spoke in, having no use for it.

I learned much later that he had told me, "You are family of dragons?"

But for then, I watch him cautiously, unable to keep myself from glancing at the white dragon he was leaning against (so young, so much like those I had buried so recently) as I carefully move backwards. When I reach the forest, I turn and vanish into the tree with barely a glance behind me.

When I arrive back at the nesting place unharmed, many of the dragons are relieved, and I laugh when several of the little one bowl me over, the older ones demanding promises that I will never leave them again. It takes me a while to escape from the little one's jealous attention, but once I manage, I am pulled into the war meeting. I contribute what I saw of the young elf and the hatchling who had carried him, and listen as they debate. It isn't until the night is nearly over that they decide that should the young elf come with the youngling, they would hear him out.

The war lasted for another year, but eventually Eragon managed to negotiate between his peoples and the dragons, but I did not meet him until the final treaty was to be signed, and the first eggs were given to the elves in recognition of the terms, because the dragons were once again unwilling to let me out of their sight.

I stood next the many colored dragons, and I met Eragon's eves across the crowd, and he smiled at me for some reason.

When the treaty had been signed, and the eggs given to the elves, Eragon came over to talk to me, other elevs following his lead to walk amoung the dragons.

"Ono waíse breoal abr skulblaka!" he'd exclaimed cheerfully. Behind him, Bid'Daum inlices his head to me.

 _You are kin to dragons,_ a voice whispers into my mind, and I blink slowly, digesting the words I have not had need to understand since my child hood before I dredge up memories.

 _Tell him he is stupid,_ I say, directing my smile to Bid'Daum. _And little one, tell him thank you._

 _Of course._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Chapter 3**

* * *

As it turns out, I do see Solembum relatively soon. Him and his pet witch are waiting for me in the desert at an oasis, and I blink at the brightly colored tent sitting among the drab tents surrounding it. Fells is staying well away from oasis with people in respect to their wishes. Right now she'd hovering at the edge of my senses and peering through my eyes.

Solembum comes running up to me as I pass the first line of tents, his usual haughty demeanor gone, and he transforms a bit away, just in time to crash into me and knock me over.

"Uff," I grunt as my back hits the sand, but I smile as I look up at Solembum. I speak the oldest language to him without hesitation. _"Hello brat. And greetings for Kian as well."_

 _"He's alright?"_ Solembum asks without hessitation, instantly sitting up. _"And how are you? I haven't seen you in years!"_

 _"You'd think we didn't annoy each other is we spent a week together,"_ I mutter as I push myself into a sitting position. _"Kian's fine. He's still in his valley so not much has changed there. And as for me, well, what can you tell?"_

Solembum pauses, a slightly wary look on his face, but he sits back and looks at me, eyes tracing my clothes, and a thoughtful look of his face. He leans forward and buries his face in the junction between my neck and my shoulder, making me laugh slightly as I bush sand off my clothes absently, waiting for him to think.

 _"You still smell much the same,"_ he starts, _"Like sand and sun . . . and dragons. Did you steal an egg from Galbatorix? I hadn't heard of anything, but maybe he wouldn't say anything . . ."_

 _"I didn't steal my egg from Galbatorix,"_ I reply, a smile playing on my face as I watch him puzzle out the problem.

 _"Did the blue one stolen from Galbatorix hatch for you then?"_ Solembum asks.

 _"Kid, I'm pretty sure the nearest my egg was to Galbatorix was a league, if not more,"_ I say, a smile spreading over my face as he adds the rest of his information to that answer.

 _"You_ found _a_ wild _egg?"_ Solembum practically shrieked. _"Morgan, I will never understand how you do that! You wander the desert, and you_ find _a_ wild egg _."_

 _"Mhm,"_ I smile at him. _"So, how's your pet witch?"_

 _"She's fine, thank you for asking,"_ Solembum says as he sits back. _"So, how old is the dragon you found?"_

 _"She's a year old now,"_ I reply with a smile.

 _Tell him hello._ Fells suddenly speaks up.

 _"She wants me to tell you hello,"_ I say to Solembum. He smiles slightly.

 _"You can speak to me directly, I don't mind,"_ he says looking into my eyes, and for a moment, I am desperately homesick. I start as Solembum's arms suddenly close around me, then smile and relax into his embrace. _"Come on. Let's go inside before we get sunburned."_

* * *

"Hello," Angela says, looking up from her mortar and pestle as we slip into her brightly colored tent. "How are you today, Ruler of the Night Sky?"

"As well as I have been, Witch," I say, sitting down cross legged on the rugs. "And how have you been? Learned any more of the ancient language yet?"

"I have no need of it, as ever," she replies with a smile. I look down when Solembum brushes against my knees in the manner of a cat begging to be pet, and quickly start running a hand down his back.

"So why have you come, truly? And don't tell me it was just because Solembum wanted to see me," I say getting straight down to business as Solembem drapes himself across my lap. He goes rigid as he hear the question, and I look down to find him communicating with Angela. I watch him, not stopping my stroking as I wait for the two to come to a consensus. Finally, Angela looks up, and Solembum turns his face to hide it against my torso, his ears pressed flat against his head.

"We traveled here because we wanted to warn you," she says. "I - well, the spell slipped recently-"

"Are you alright?" I instantly ask, reaching out to grab her hand, and she smiles at me.

"I'm fine Morgan," shays softly. "Though that is part of it. Could you renew it? I think it was running out of energy."

"Of course I can," I say, already reaching out. I easily find the spell, and take a moment to reassure myself that it is just energy deficient and not damaged, then I carefully open my reserves and channel energy into the spell's reserve. I carefully watch the level and immediately cut off the flow of energy the moment the spell's reserves are full. I draw back and examine it slightly before I pull back entirely. I blink, and find Angela watching me with sharp blue eyes. "There. That should last you."

"Thank you," she sighs, visibly relaxing.

"Don't worry," I smile at her. "You're my little nephew's pet-"

 _Morgan!_ Solembum protests in embarrassment, digging his claws into my leg.

"- Of course I'd help you. So what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Well, when the spell slipped up, I Saw something," Angela says, looking down. "It was slightly odd because it was two fold, but I saw you, and you were lonely. Then you looked up to see something I couldn't, and you weren't. Then you looked left, and you were happy."

"And," I prompt gently.

"Then something happened, and you were running as you held someone's hand," she continues. "There was danger, but at every turn you grew more happy. I never did see anyone else, but I think you were meeting more people."

"Angela-"

"Don't you dare try to tell me that you like to be alone Morgan," Angela cuts me off from saying exactly that. "This is the first time you've been this alone in your life."

"But-"

 _No buts,_ Solembum says sharply, looking up finally. _You had lived with possessive, protective, rambunctious,_ always there _dragons for centuries before I was born, and for centuries after. The most they would have left you alone for was a week. Now, you've been alone for almost a century._

I look between my nephew and the with before I sigh. "Alright. I am lonely. But the dragons are gone, and I'm scared that I'll forget them."

I blink back tears and start when Solembum rubs his head against my chin. _You won't forget them. And I know that they wouldn't want for you to be lonely. Don't forget just what they did to cheer you up._

"I could go and create a giant sand sculpture of someone for you destroy," Angela says helpfully, making me laugh through my tears, because that's exactly what some of them would have done.

"No, I'm fine," I say, sniffing slightly and trying to wipe my tears away. "Did you get a time frame for any of that vision?"

"It'll happen in under half a decade," Angel promises. "Are you sure that you don't want to destroy a sculpture of that man? It'll be fun!"

"No, I don't want to destroy a sculpture of Galbatorix," I say. My breath is shaky as it moves, but I can't bring myself to care. "I think that part of your vision has already happened. Do you want to meet her?"

"There's a her?" Angela asks, but she's already gathering up her things. We move outside, and with a quick intonation of _pack_ later, Angela picks up the rather large bag with her things and tent, and looks expectantly at me.

"Come on," I say with a smile. Fells is humming happily in the back of my head as I lead the others to her, looking up at the stary sky above with a smile.

* * *

Since this is what seems to be happening, let me tell you the origin of another of my names, Ruler of the Night Sky. This one comes from the Riders, from when hey'd asked for my help in practicing their exercises during the night. They were mostly stealth attacks, which they had discovered there was a big difference in opinion of. The elves wanted the dragons to stay low and fast so that they could not be seen against the stars until it was too late, but the dragons disagreed entirely. The dragons wanted to be high above the trees in the sky so their wings could not be heard and fast moving in aerobatics so that any start that were obscured seemed to simple be twinkling, and there was no straight path of obscured stars to get suspicious of.

This was in the early days when most of the training the dragons had came from either wild dragons, or from Bid'Daum. The wild dragons, despite fighting the elves for years, didn't know entirely how they interacted with the world, and Bid'Daum, while aware of how saw the world, didn't really know how to fly other than how his instincts guided him.

So both groups tuned to me, expecting me to tell them what to do one way or another. I'd been watching them in amusement during the night with on of the silver dragnets who had escaped the Night of Broken Eggs, _silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness_. I told them to come again the next night, and I would show them what to do.

They'd come the next night, and I'd taken off on _silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness._ After flying away, low over the forest with a silencing spell on her wings, _silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness_ and I had taken to the sky far above the small target that the riders had set up. Then I'd dropped the large bundle of wood bound to stones that I'd brought with me, and after moving far enough from it that the flare of light wouldn't catch on _silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness_ 's scales, I set it on fire. I did that several times, always hitting my target, and the oil pots within the wood-stone bundles broke upon contact with the ground, quickly spreading the fire.

Then we dropped down to fly just above the tree tops to hide ourselves. _silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness_ settled on the grass behind them, and I lifted the silencing spell on her just in time for her to let out a satisfied burst of flame. The riders turn around quickly before they notice us, and I flashed a sharp tooth grin at them.

"How did you do that?" Eragon asks, the awe in his voice clear. "You just disappeared, and then fire balls were falling out of the sky!"

"Flew low close to you with silence, flew high as soon as possible," I explained, the words awkward on my tongue. "Drop wood-stone-oil, few away, set on fire."

"So you flew both high and low," Eragons observes before he turns back to the sheepish elves behind him as I turn around and pat _silverglintwhiteflowerbrokensadness_ gently on the muzzle and bring her over to the deer carcass I'd asked the elves to bring for her.

They asked me to come to watch them again the next day, and I frown absently as I do. The dragons are clumsy, not knowing how to move to keep themselves invisible against the sky, but they do much better than they had before.

It becomes a regular thing for me to meet them once every moon and tell them how horrible they are doing. The dragons do get less clumsy, but there are always younglings for me to teach. And for some reason that I was never able to understand, they could never see me or the dragon I was flying on at night, leading the older ones to jokingly give me the name "Ruler of the Night Sky". Of course when the younglings hear it, they take it entirely seriously and start presenting me with fish and other things when they meet me during the night exercises.

Despite what the elves claimed it was entirely clear that what ever their beliefs in the gods, they did still believe in luck and fate.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Chapter 4**

* * *

I spend a week with Solembum and Angela as they travel back to Angela's shop. With Solembum and I as cats, and Angela's things strapped to Fells's belly, we make pretty good time. I manage to remind Solembum of exactly why we only ever spend a week at a time together, but we part on good terms, and I laugh as Fells takes to the sky, her body rumbling with her laughter underneath me. But with the news they gave me, I find that I am no longer content to simply wander the desert.

I start wandering into the Empire, leaving Fells to soar over the desert and watch through my eyes. At some point, I apparently make a name for myself because I find a wanted poster with a crude drawing of my human form on it. I go back to Fells after about a year has passed, and we play together for a week or so before I feel the pull to return. This happens again and again, until before I realize it, four years have passed and I smile at one of Fells's tricks. then suddenly my attention is ripped away with a burst of magic that almost feels unfamiliar because of how long it's been since I've felt it and I turn with a gasp of recognition -

\- but just before I can burst out of the trees, my long latent prophetic abilities roar to life, and I collapse in pain. I can hear a herd of some animal with hooves thundering past me, and the sound of an arrow slamming into a tree over my head, and in the back of my mind I can hear Fells screaming at me to respond to her, but all of my attention is taken by the images forcing their way into my head.

First there's me, walking with my head hung low. Then suddenly I'm looking up. I'm curious. Then surprised. Then scared for a moment. Than happy. I reach up to touch what ever it is I'm seeing. Then I'm turning to my left, surprised again. Then I'm happy, and I reach out -

\- and grab someone's hand. Then suddenly I look right, and I'm scared, I turn back to the person whose hand I'm holding, and we run, my right hand still held above me. We turn, and turn again, each time more sharply, but I can see the expression on my face, and I'm smiling.

Then I blink, gasping as Fells screams at me in my head.

 _Fells -_ I start, but the words are slow to come to me. I shake my head in frustration and try again in the language I used the longest.

desertmountainocean. _Fells. Happy. Image of Arya._ Magic. _Image of me looking up. Image of sun on horizon. Image of me looking at shimmering mid day sun. Happy. Image of me in crowd. Image of sun on horizon. Sad. Image of me alone._

There's a dissatisfied snort before Fells sends me an image of myself frowning and shaking my finger like I used to when ever Fells tried to eat my portion of the meat. She's long used to me being unable or unwilling to think or speak in words.

 _Image of Arya. Image of blue egg. Curious. Scared. Image of Brom. Image of two sticks next to each other. Image of Fells. Image of two sticks far from each other._

 _Image of me shaking finger. Disapproval._ Fells retorts. _Image blood on my skin. Image of blood on my fur. Anger. Image of Fells in sky. Image of Fells breathing fire._

 _Image of me on goat path. Image of fells beneath me on goat path._ I insist before I add; _Caution._

 _Caution._ Fells snorts. _Image of path splitting in two. Image blood on my skin. Image of blood on my fur. Anger. Image of Fells in sky. Image of Fells breathing fire._

 _Caution._ I repeat.

 _Image of my best skeptical stare._ Fells grumbles, but she with draws slightly as I sigh and push myself up. I bat absently at the dirt on my cheek before I shift.

\- and promptly knock my head into the arrow over my head.

"Ah!" I yelp, still too incoherent for words, but the sentiment of my muttered growls is the same as I hunch over and try to remember the word of healing. After a moment of straining to remember, and decide not to bother with magic with a growl that would have been vulgar had I been able to remember words before I push a trickle of magic to my very sore head and tell it to make my head like so, showing it an image of my head when it isn't threatening to split apart. My magic drains away slightly, but I smile as the pain fades with it, bringing clarity.

 _Better?_ Fells asks, pacing the edges of my mind.

 _Better,_ I reply with a smile before I creep forward into the clearing. Before me, there's a wide circle of charred grass, and trees with singed trunks, stripped of their needles and leaning away from the explosion.

 _Good,_ Fells snorts in satisfaction. _Now you can sleep. You can find out that Arya deemed important enough to send to you later. We can probably find whoever picked it up in the morning._

 _Alright, alright,_ I say, smiling slightly. I tilt my head, considering the charred grass in front of me before I paw at it. It's still warm in that nice way, and I pad forward lightly to curl up in the grass.

* * *

I yelp as suddenly a pair of hand grab me under my armpits and lift me into the air. I swipe at the person, and when that doesn't connect, I shift and blindly try again.

This time there's a yelp as my palm hits something, and who ever it was that picked me up drops me. I land in a crouch and squint against the pink and yellow sky to see a boy of about fifteen years blinking at me.

"Who are you? How did you do that?" he demands after a moment of staring at me, his drawn bow pointing at me, making me eye him warily.

"Please don't tell me that you haven't heard," I state after a moment before I frown at the boy's face. "I even transformed in front of you."

"But - I thought they- you were only stories!" the boy says, but I ignore him, looking closer at his features. Fells, awakened by my own sudden wake up, slips easily into my mind, and I show her and image of Brom, Brom's love, and the boy before me.

"You're lucky I'm not my nephew," I tell the boy absently as Fells looks between the three images. "He would be using words you don't know, and reasoning you can't follow."

 _They do look quite alike,_ Fells muses as the boy stares at me, his bow lowered now.

"If you don't mind, I quite think I'll be going now," I say, slinking away from the boy on all fours.

"Wait," he calls before I reach the trees, and I pause, ready to shift at any moment and sprint before he gets any ideas. "What's your name? Please."

"I have many names," I say, eyeing him warily before I shift so my posture is more human-like as something nudges playfully at the edge of my mind. "There is the one my mother gave me, and the one that is all I am. There are names given to me, and names that I have chosen. Only some are ones you might know."

"I - what should I call you?"

The boy's expression is still uncertain, and I stand fully up right as I turn to face him. There's an odd sort of weight to him that he's unaware of, one that presses against my mind and makes me think of old times, times when Iwas subject the a prophecy that I thought I would die to fulfill. And now I recognize the presence at the edge of my mind, and curse myself for recognizing it sooner. "You can call me Kai."

Then I turn and throw myself into the bushes, shifting forms as I fall. I run away on all four feet as the boy calls out behind me.

 _That was rather rude,_ Fells observes as I push out the boundaries of my mind, Brom's location, and I find him in moments. _And if Arya really did send the egg, you should have stayed with him to protect it._

 _Yes, yes, I know,_ I reply as I practically fly through the trees. I consider my position for a moment before I push off of a log and jump higher and higher into the canopy, finally jumping off of one of the highest branches. "Thrysta!"

I change back to my human form in a moment, letting out a whoop as I go flying into the air in a long curving arc. I wobble for a moment before I correct my course to a steady path skimming the trees. _It's so odd though - little Brom had a child. He's come so far, and yet he will never go as far as he could have. And as far as the subject of the egg, I'm pretty sure it will hatch for him._

 _You know, I am far younger than him,_ Fells states, amused as she lets the subject of the egg drop. _Most of my experience comes from your memories._

 _Well,_ I start slowly, from my experience, _dragons who choose riders usually grow up with their minds so closely entwined with that of their rider's that from one point of view, you are very much a part of me that split off to another body._

My lips twist bitterly as I consider the thought. That very fact is the reason - from what we could tell - that dragons died with their riders, but riders didn't die with their dragons. The dragons partly developed while in the egg - it allowed them to choose when to hatch for the wild ones, and who to choose for the rider's eggs - but while that development allowed the dragons to have different personalities then their riders, it wasn't enough for the dragons to survive without half of their mind. Riders on the other hand, were usually mostly developed by the time they wee chosen by a dragon, their minds weren't nearly as dependent on their dragons. That didn't change the fact that they would loose a part of themselves should their dragon die, but they developed without the dragon's support, and the structure to support and individual mind was still there.

 _It's not as if you haven't gone through as many of my memories as you can,_ I say to Fells, shaking off the bitter melancholy my contemplations brought me. I glance down at the forest whizzing beneath me before I adjust my course slightly to avoid a tree. _How has your project been going?_

 _Disapproval,_ Fells sends me, before an image of an almost naked young child with silvery hair and a scattering of silver scales and unfocused eyes from the perspective of something on the ground drifts to my mind. I can also see the sun beating down on the sand around the girl before the image fades as Fells talks to me again. _I've gotten better. If nothing else, a dress will cover the scales, and I can blame my coloring on my parents._

 _Is it getting easier?_ I ask with a smile. _And yes, you are doing well. You look very good._

 _Yes, it's getting easier, and thank you for the compliments,_ Fells answers, pride clear in her voice.

 _Good,_ I reply. _Keep practicing._

We keep talking, or occasionally showing when words aren't adequate. Some time around sundown, I sit up in my seat of wind to stare over the valley, a smile breaking out over my face. I slow myself down, and once I'm past the cliff, I carefully spiral down to the ground below me. The sun has set by the time I set myself down on my feet at the base of the Anora falls. I shake myself and stretch, placing my palms on the ground and letting my forehead touch my knees with a sigh before I stand and peer out of the grove of trees I had set down in and at the motley collection of houses not for from here.

I shift, and pad forward warily on my paws. Time to meet an old student.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Chapter 5**

* * *

 _Hello, Brom._

"Who's there?" the man before me asks, quickly shutting the door and looking around the room. His eyes settle on me and widen. "Morgan?"

 _Hello. You do realize that Jeod thinks you dead?_

"Your coat has changed," Brom says, avoiding the question. "You look like a calico now."

I give him and unamused stare before I stand and leap off the chair to pad up to him. _Your son found a dragon's egg._

"What?" Brom asks, his face going pale. "How? Is the egg alright?"

 _Arya, Fäolin, and their companion were most likely captured. But you shouldn't take the egg. She choose him._ I say as I settle down in front of him and wrap my tail around my paws. _So, your son's name?_

"Eragon," Brom says, stepping over me and carefully lowering himself into the chair. I follow him, and leap up to settle on his lap, my paws pushing ever so lightly against his trousers.

 _You named you son remembrance? You know what happens to those named Eragon, don't you?_

"I didn't name him," Brom sighed, his fingers settling on my back and stroking as I flick my ear in irritation. "I don't know how, but Selena must have come across the name in a book. She told her brother the name as her child's. What about Arya and Fäolin?"

My ear flicks as I contemplate what must have happened for her to send the egg all this way. _I have to go find them._

"You do realize just how much trouble Arya had to be in to try sending the egg away."

 _Of course I know,_ I snap, my tail lashing back and fourth, hitting him occasionally. _If nothing else, I am very good at sneaking. I can heal any of her injuries and put her into a sleep so that she does not feel them._

Brom's eyes widen before he smile at me. "It's nice to see you care again."

I pause in my frustration at the thought of not being able to save Arya.

 _What?_

"Ever since Galbatorix killed _old rock worn away by time_ , you've tried to not care."

 _I . . . I'm going to find the elves. Go talk to your son. And tell Jeod that you're alive. Take the weight off his shoulders,_ I say. I leap off his lap, dislodging his had in the process. I pause at the door way before I turn back and look at him. _Please, don't get yourself killed. You're the last human dragon rider. I could't - I -_

I flee before he can reply, leaping out of his window into the night.

* * *

I scry Fäolin after I return to the clearing that I'd slept in last night. I sigh in relief when I see that my bag is still there, and I quickly shift to dig through it and make sure I'm not missing anything. The money and dried meat I had were gone, but nothing I didn't expect. After I sit pull on one of the sets of clothes, I sit back for a moment to contemplate what I should do next. There are several ways I can go about this, but none of them really appeal to me. I grimace to myself before I pull my knife out of my pack and unsheathe it. It's not as reflective as water and mirrors are, but using it saves a lot of energy, especially since I burned so much with my little flying trick.

"Show me," I murmur absently, trailing my fingers over the blade. Fäolin's image comes reluctantly, and I quickly shift it away from him the moment I see the stillness, images wheeling across the blade as I try to figure out who the second guard was this time. The wards of Du Weldenvarden tingle over my magic as I ignore them, searching frantically. The images go still as I recognize Glenwing's still body, looking much as Fäolin's had before I let the spell dissolve. I let my eyes close and hold back a sob because this is exactly why I tried not to care for so long. My fingers clench, but it isn't until I look down that I realize that I've cut my fingers.

I contemplate . . . not healing myself. I shouldn't die from it, though I might loose some motion. Its not like any one would notice.

 _I'd notice,_ Fells whispers from a corner of my mind, drawing my attention to her. _I rather like you being able to stay on me without a saddle._

Guilt floods into me at the reminder that it's not just my life I'd be risking and thought quickly mends the torn flesh. _I'm sorry._

Fells snorts, but I can feel her relief as I reach back for her and let the feeling of her presence settle around me like a cloak. _You do know that you needn't feel guilty. I knew before I hatched that you wouldn't be able to heal me if I get hurt. I choose to risk it._

 _You shouldn't have,_ I sigh, absently tracing my finger down the blade again. _You've seen how easily you can be harmed._

 _Mutually assured destruction,_ Fells replies. There's a morbid humor to her voice now. _Neither of us are surviving long without each other._

That though makes me almost happy. I've lived a long, long life, and I've done many things.

 _Now focus on Arya. I want to meet her, so she'd better be alive,_ Fells demands childishly, interrupting the somber mood. A swipe of my fingers over the blade brings the image of Arya, and I relax as I see the slight movement of her chest rising and falling. Then I register the cuts and busies littering her bare skin. Fells remains silent, but her presence grows more _here_ around me. I'm so focused on her that it takes me another moment before I look to see her surroundings. I sigh as the cell walls before I push myself up and grab my bag.

 _You know where she is?_ Fells asks gently, and I nod. Fells feels my reluctance for words and after sending a rush of warmth, her presence fades back to the corner of my mind as she concentrates on her surroundings once more.

Arya is in the cells of Gil'ead.

* * *

It takes me a week and a half to get to Gil'ead, some of it spent on two legs and some of it spent on four legs. The city itself is mostly rough buildings shared by the hunters and fishers when they come back to sell off their goods for supplies. Those stand it sharp contrast to the simple and serviceable lines of the military buildings, built by Galbatorix to defend against the elves. I slip into the city as a cat, gaining some food from trappers as I wander the streets.

I reach out to Arya now, hoping to find her now that I'm closer. I find her mind, but it's so tightly closed off that I doubt that even my soft touch had been felt. While unable to touch her mind, I manage to use that to direct myself to the keep. It takes me moments to scale the wall high enough to land of the sill of the window, and I quickly drop into the room withing, darting to hide under the bed. There's a gasp, and the feet I ran by were quickly drawn up so there was nothing showing. I watch the edge of the cautiously as long, brown hair dangles and slowly pools on the floor as luminescent eyes the color of pure copper peer over the edge of the bed.

I wince as suddenly the vision of me turning left flashes before my eyes with a flash of blinding pain. The person quickly withdraws, then peers at me again after a moment. We watch each other for moments before the person's head disappears, only for the person to step out of the bed and lie down to look at me.

 _Hello,_ I say after another moment. The child's head tilts, and something swipes at the edges of my shields. I frown and put more effort into my shield, but before I can reach out to see who did it, a word throws itself at my shields.

 _Hello._

 _Was that you?_ I ask the child.

 _Was that you?_ comes the reply. I frown for a moment, and the child mimics the expression.

 _Curiosity._ I blink at the child, sending the feeling like I had with my dragons long ago. _Warmth. ?_

The child blinks back at me, realization crossing his eyes. _! Understanding._

 _Happiness._ I smile, feeling Fells shift at the back of my mind. _Image of me. Small tide pool next to the ocean. Endless ocean clashing with shore. Silvery scales littering the burning sand. The sky above filled with stars._

 _Understanding._ The child returns before he frowns. _Darkness. The fear of pain after sound. Curled in a corner. Blood on white._

 _Sadness._ I immediately respond. I pause to think, but I don't need much time. _? Acceptance. Curiosity. Open door._

 _?_

 _Open door._ I reply. _Acceptance._

 _Open door?_ the boy asks.

 _Open door. Freedom._ I smile, and the boy's eyes widen.

 _Freedom? Acceptance!_

I crawl out from under the bed, and brush the boy's thigh as he scrambles back. His eyes widen as he flinches back like he's been scalded. _Darkness?_

 _Fear._ the boy flinches.

 _Warmth._ I insist slowly padding forward, frightened eyes watching every step. I put my head close to his hand and patiently wait for the boy to move. I takes several minutes, the boy's eyes flicking between me and his hand before his hand twitches and brushes my fur. When nothing happens, his hand slowly uncurls, and he hesitantly touches my fur. I purr and he flinches again, wide eye watching me.

 _Warmth._ I encourage him, still purring. _Freedom._

 _Acceptance._ the boy replies uncertainly, but he lets his hand rest on my fur again. After a moment, I turn to the door. The boy snatched his hand back as it slides off of my back. There's a click as I prod the lock, making the boy's head snap up to look at it.

 _Open door._ I remind him him. _Freedom._

The boy's mind pulls hack as he stands and looks at the door. He sets a hand on the handle and turns it, peering out into the corridor beyond.

I slide out through the crack and start towards the direction I can feel Arya. _Darkness. Trail of ants._

The boy quickly slips out of the room to follow me.

 _Who is that?_ Fells asks as I find my way through the winding corridors.

 _Some one Galbatorix is interested in._ I reply. Then as I hear the footsteps of soldiers ahead, I quickly dart into a room, the boy following behind my without a sound. _I couldn't leave him, so I asked him to come with me._

 _You seem to be picking up a trail of people now,_ Fells observes as we dart back into the hall and towards Arya again. _First there was me, and while you left the little one and Eragon behind, I have no doubt you'll go back for them. And now you have this boy and Arya._

 _Again, it wasn't intentional,_ I reply as we duck into a room again. The footsteps pass, and after a glance outside, we quickly start down the corridor again.

 _That's what makes it so hilarious,_ Fells laughs as I slide to a stop n front to a door on the left side of the corridor.

 _Hush, you,_ I murmur absently as I prod at the lock. It clicks open, and I enter, waiting for the boy to enter before I push it shut. Then I turn to face Arya. She is staring down at me with disbelieving eyes, and I shift without a thought.

"Morgan?" she gasps, then grimaces and presses he hand to her side, doubling over in pain.

"Arya," I cry, rushing over to her.

"I will be fine," she says waving me off. "I suppose you intend to rescue me."

"Yes," I reply, my hands fluttering uselessly over her midsection.

"I've been poisoned," Arya states bluntly. "By Skilna Bragh. Can you do anything about that?"

"That'll be the easy part."

"Good," she replies, then she looks past me. "So, who is this?"

I turn, and flinch to see the boy cowering in the corner of the cell.

"One moment eld varda," I say as I crouch down.

 _Darkness?_

 _Fear! Lost! Alone!_ the boy throws his emotions. _Where?_

 _In front._ I reply patiently. His eyes land on me, and before he can look else where, I add; _Approval._

 _?_

 _Approval._ I explain.

 _Different. Not soft._ he narrows his eyes, and I smile at him.

 _Me. Come._

The boy is still suspicious, but he uncurls and stands.

"Arya, this is, as close as I could figure, Darkness. I found his in one of the cells."

Arya studies him for a moment before she nods. "How do you plan to get me out of here?"

"That's the fun part," I smile.

* * *

 _Alright. So . . . tell me if that was too confusing._

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Chapter 6**

* * *

 _Morgan, being carried out over your shoulder is not fun!_ Arya yells at me as I leap up and use a soldier's head to land on the wall. Darkness, who's floating above me in the iron clad grasp of my magic, laughs as we fall the four stories of the wall. _Can't you at least float me as well?_

 _The last time I did that to you, you told me 'Never again!'. I'm just honoring your wishes._ I reply as I soften our landing with burst of magic, darting through the barracks and huts towards the edge of town.

 _Well I'm revoking that right now! I'd rather be floated along than carried like a sack of flour twice as tall as you!_

 _You're no fun._ I pout, but I let go of her waist and she joins Darkness in his floating above me just as we clear the wall meant to keep bandits out of the trading settlement.

 _You're millennia older than me,_ Arya snaps back, but I can feel the edge of amusement and relief in her tone as I keep my two passengers floating at a steady level. _Shouldn't you be less concerned with fun?_

 _You're millennia younger than me. Shouldn't you be more concerned with fun?_

 _Fun?_ Darkness asks before Arya can reply.

 _Fun._ I answer, sending not the word, but the feeling, and Darkness mulls it over as I sprint ever onward into the gathering dusk.

 _Fun._

* * *

It isn't until dawn that I finally stop, exhausted and out of breath from the run. My two passengers are both asleep in the air above me, and Fells a quiet murmur in the back of my mind as I set them down and sit down myself, panting.

Arya sleeps the deep sleep of one exhausted, and I find that I am almost glad that she is still asleep when Darkness stirs.

 _?_ he asks me when he sits up and rubs his eyes, looking around at the bushes shielding us from prying eyes.

 _Warmth. Tired._ I reply, allowing my weariness to show. _Caution?_

 _Caution._ Darkness agrees as I yawn.

* * *

I wake around midday to find Darkness and Arya laughing together and eating warm bread. When they notice that I'm awake, Darkness comes running over to me, brimming with images, and Arya comes behind him with the bread. I take the slice offered to me, and eye the bush I fell asleep under, noticing the missing leaves. Bread isn't my favorite thing to eat, but it will sustain me, and I know that Arya wouldn't be able to stomach my usual meals, even if they had been cooked.

"How are you?" I ask her, and her smile looses some of its merriness.

"I am better, but I have been better," she offers simply. I take the words for the meaning she gives them, and pat the grass beside me. We spend the rest of the day resting, and at dusk we set off again.

Arya is well enough to run on her own, and I had shifted to a shape I hadn't taken in years, one large enough to carry Darkness, and we had run though the night, thoughts fleeting.

(I try not to remember the last time had used this form - with it's orange and black stripes. Try not to remember curses and friendships and lives long past.)

Darkness clutches at my fur and leans into the wind. His lips are chapped after an hour, but he doesn't seem to mind, only burying his face in my neck when it gets too bad.

* * *

It takes us three weeks to make our way back to the clearing where Arya sent the egg. About half way through, once it becomes clear that I won't see her this year if she doesn't come, Fells finds us while we are asleep and takes the shape she's worked hard to find. Arya isn't really surprised at a new person joining our group, long used to the others that had joined occasionally when I followed her with the egg, and Darkness is delighted to find someone who speaks to him as fluently as I do, rather than Arya's stuttering attempts.

Now, Darkness slips off my back and looks around the clearing curiously. There are still char marks from the excess energy Arya thrust into the spell, uncovered by the snow that hides the rest of the clearing, and Arya frowns as she kneels down to touch the blackened grass. Fells, I can feel reaching out curiously as Arya stands.

"Morgan, what is this?"

"That is the excess energy from your transportation spell," I tell her as I let magic seep out and shape a bed around me. A corner of my mind is monitoring Fell's connection with _Saphira_ (Fells provides me, her shock at the name very carefully hidden), the egg I left with Eragon Bromson.

"The egg?" Arya asks sharply, looking around as if the egg were still here.

"Hatched," I say with a slight smile. "I left her with Bromson."

"Bromson? He had kids?"

"He did."

"Morgan," Fells calls, making me turn to see her and Darkness setting up their shelter. "Will this work?"

I walk over to the mound-like structure that they had made against the hill a bit away from the clearing and kick it. The side doesn't ripple any, holding as steady as a pile of snow covered rock, and I nod approvingly. "It's pretty good."

"Thanks!" Fells smiles at me, Darkness shyly copying her as I send him the feeling of approval. The two of them turn back to their creation and eagerly go back inside.

"I haven't ask before, but I need to know. Who is that girl, Morgan? Who is she?"

I sigh as I turn back to look a Arya. I know of every mark beneath her dress that has not healed, the welts, the bruises, the cuts, and in that moment she looks so tired, so alike the many children I've comforted over my years that I want to hold he and comfort her. Every one of those marks is a sign of my failure, of my curse.

"That egg is not the only one to hatch in the last ten years," I tell her finally. "But by the contract that binds, there is only one new rider. That is all I will say on that subject."

Arya's eyes widen, but that's all I see before I glance at the mid-day sun and turn on my heel to look for food. Later that day as we eat the various wild plants I found and the two youglings tear into the rabbit I caught, Arya's eyes watch me over the fire.

* * *

I wake up before the others the next days, and after scribbling a short note on an old leaf, I fling myself into running. I make my way down the mountain with ease, and creep through the village on four legs through the dusk that has set.

"You're back," Brom comments as he closes his door. He sounds tired, with all the stiffness that comes from that, but despite his age, I can see the easy way he moves when he isn't thinking. He can easily grab the staff from beside the door and swing it at me.

 _I am._ I reply as he drapes the black robe he has been wearing over the back of his chair before he sits down himself. _Has anything happened?_

"Well, since you warned me, I caught him before he could try to trade the egg off for meat. Told him to keep it and indulge an old man," Brom sighs. "Lucky I did, Sloan can't tolerate anything from the Spine."

 _Considering the way people die, he's quite reasonable._

"Tell that to someone who isn't struggling for food."

 _I have. They were quite appreciative of the deer in particular, if I remember right._

Brom eyes me, then chuckled raspingly. "And when exactly was this? Four hundred years ago?"

 _Perhaps._

"Troublesome cat," Brom mutters, but there isn't any malice to it. "So, how did it go? You obviously did not get captured, but that doesn't mean you succeeded."

 _What confidence you have in me._ I note dryly. _And I found her. She's up in the mountains with . . . a friend and someone else I liberated._

"Shouldn't you be picking up responsible people? You're the stray."

 _Very funny . . . kitling._

"I'm not ten anymore!" Brom growls at me, his face red as I laugh, glade to still get that reaction. "Any watch your fur balls you menace."

 _You know very well that was not as fur ball!_

"After last time?"

I have to concede the point, though I hadn't exactly been trying to hack up a fur ball last time either.

"Back on topic now. How is she?"

My ears flick back. _I need to start growing some Fricai Andlát, and I need to do it fast. The rest of her injuries will heal, but she needs to have the energy to do so. Staying in one place will help, but not having the poison would be better._

Brom nods at my words. "And can you do it?"

 _Easily._ I nod. _But like I said, I need to do so soon._

"Then go," Brom sighs. "Come visit some time though, Sky Lord."

 _Like I'd let you keep sulking kitling._ I quickly dart away and out the window as he growls at the name.

"Not ten!"

* * *

Like I'd said, not moving helps Arya greatly, and as I grow more used to the area, I find more plants that would work better than the ones that are easy to run into. The mushrooms grow quickly under my touch one the wind finally brings me the spores, and I have them ready to harvest in a day. The last of the cuts fade with the weariness that the poison had created, and Arya finds herself healed and full of energy. With nothing much else to do, she joins Fells in her attempts to teach Darkness how to speak, and at some point the lesson transition to Arya teaching Fells how to fight as Darkness watches from the sidelines.

At the end of the week, I send myself falling down the mountain again, and find myself creeping into Brom's house at mid-day to curl up in his one scroll clear chair to sleep. The sound of voice wakes me, and my ears twitch as I strain to her them on the other side of the door. "-questions never seem to end."

The door swings open, and I open my eyes, watching the two people come in.

"Now for a light." The taller one announces, and I recognize Brom. He lets out a low curse as something crashes before there's a sharp spike of magic and a white spark. "Ah, here we go."

A candle flickers, shyly lighting the room and the boy standing still in the door way.

"Did you get a cat Brom?" the boy asks, more light coming onto his face as he moves closer. My tail flicks back and forth as I recognize Brom's son, Eragon.

"Cat?" Brom asks, turning with a scowl. "What ever are you-?"

His scowl dies slightly when he sees he. "Oh, so you're back are you, you menace?"

I tilt my head as if I have no idea when he's talking about and let loose a mournful yowl. "Don't try that on me. Get off my chair you lazy thing."

I consider it for a moment before I shake my head.

"Brom, why are you talking to the cat?" Eragon asks, sounding truly curious as he eyes me.

"Because it can understand me," Brom grumbles as he bends down to light the fire. He hangs a kettle over the fire and pulls his hood back. "Will you at least let me have a seat?"

I tilt my head and leap down, as if I was miffed that it had ever been a consideration. I wander over to the door and paw it open, looking around Brom's bedroom for a moment before I shift, and go over to his closet to dig out a tunic that will cover everything. The sleeves are a little long, but I just push them up with a grimace. I'm not going to mutilate the shirt for a one time use. I wander back into the main room just in time to hear Brom say, "If you must know, elves are not legends, and they are called fair because they are more graceful than any of the other races."

"Do realize that this is all a matter of perspective," I comment as I stop by Brom's chair.

"You again! You're that werecat!" Eragon exclaims, and I roll my eyes.

"Now you recognize me." I shake my head as I pull myself up to sit on Brom's lap with his robes.

"What do you mean a matter of perspective?" Eragon asks curiously as I settle myself.

"Well, the elves are quite attractive to some, but fair can mean many things. I know- have known many elves who believe that werecats are far more fair than themselves."

"Might I speak again?" Brom asks as I finally stop wiggling to find a comfortable spot. Eragon nods, and Brom continues.

I recognize the story after a couple of sentences, and find myself listening with a strange fascination. As someone who was there throughout most of the rider's history, even if I was never a Rider, it's interesting to see how history was passed down.

When Eragon leaves after asking for the names of dragons, Brom slumps into his chair. "He doesn't know whose child he is."

"She never told him. What name do you think he will get her to agree to?"

"She's a blue, you know. You only gave him one female blue dragon's name."

"I guess I wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry. If she wants more names, she can come to me."

"That's not how it's supposed to work, and you know it."

"And I always thought that was stupid."

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Chapter 7**

* * *

I'm putting this on hiatus so I can concentrate on fewer stories. I'm sorry.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Chapter 8**

* * *

Hi. This is abandoned, and will go to my Dribbles story tomorrow. I apologize.


	5. Quotes

Quotes that I like

There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.

The past is a ghost, the future a dream, and all we ever really have is now.

He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever... He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe... And... he's wonderful.

If you can't dazzle them with brilliance than baffle them with bullshit.

Come to the dark side. (We have cookies.)

When life gives you lemons, make apple juice. Then sit back and watch as the world tries to figure out how you did it.

Have you noticed that people can sometimes do the impossible because they don't know it's impossible?

Be the kind of woman who, when her feet hit the ground in the morning, the Devil says, "Oh crap, she's awake!"

When in doubt, make up words.

Sticks and stones may scar my skin but words slice through my soul within.

One day your prince will come. Mine? Oh, he just took a wrong turn, got lost, and is to stubborn to ask directions.

Why are people allowed to put naked statues outside, but we can't run around naked?

Parents spend the first part of our lives teaching us to walk and talk, and the rest of it telling us to sit down and shut up

Don't knock on death's door…ring the doorbell and run. He hates that.

Isn't it funny how the word 'politics' is made up of the words 'poli' meaning 'many' in Latin, and 'tics' as in 'bloodsucking creatures'?

Do I know Sarcasm? Why yes, he's my best friend. I call him Snarky for short...(He's kinda cute as well)

Nothing can kill me... except my best friend Sarcasm

Sarcasm isn't an attitude; it's an ART. Don't go dissing my best friend.

It takes real skill to trip over a flat surface

I am a bomb technician - If you see me running try to keep up.

Kit. Kit. Kit, wake up! YOU LAZY MIDGET-SIZED PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A MIDDAY SNACK! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!

Be insane- well behaved people never made history.

"Sir, we're surrounded!" "Excellent, we can attack in any direction!"

Love is giving someone the ability to destroy you, but trusting them not to.

"With great power, comes the great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."- Nico di Angelo

"Someday I must read this scholar Everyone. He seems to have written so much-all of it wrong." -Immortals, Emperor Mage

"I hope you will think of a smart way to fight them. If you don't, I will find a stupid way." -Daine

"Lord Raoul asked me to tell you that if you get yourself killed, he will never speak to you again."

"I thought they killed you. I lost my temper."

"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."

"You're only given a little spark of madness. You musn't loose it."' Robin Williams

There's nothing wrong with arguing with yourself.

Something here doesn't make sense. Let's go and poke it with a stick.

The gods must love stupid people, they made so many.

Earth is the insane asylum of the universe.

Growing older is mandatory. Growing up is optional.

Children are the future. Be afraid, very afraid.

The trouble with life is there's no background music.

Programming today is a race between software engineers striving to build bigger and better idiot proof programs, and the universe trying to produce bigger and better idiots. So far, the universe is winning.

Nothing is fool proof to a sufficiently talented fool.

Save the Earth, it's the only planet with chocolate.

You say I've lost my sanity. Well I have news for you. You can't lose what you never had.

He can heal, but he can never be whole again.

If you can't BEAT them, JOIN them  
If you can't JOIN them, BRIBE them  
If you can't BRIBE them, BLACKMAIL them  
If you can't BLACKMAIL them, KILL them  
If you can't KILL them, you're SCREWED

I took the less traveled road... NOW WHERE THE HECK AM I?

Hating the one you love is far harder than loving the one you hate. - Cristina Orante

Who Am I?

I am the one . . . that doesn't go to school dances. I am the one that people look through when I say something. I am the one that spends most of my free time reading, or writing. I am the one that people call weird, and a freak either behind my back or to my face. I am the one that doesn't spend all my time on FaceBook, or talking about cars or sex to my friends. I am the one that hasn't been asked out in a year . . . or ever. I am the one that has stopped to smell the flowers and jump and slash in the rain.

But I am also the one who knows and is proud to be who I am, doesn't care if people call me weird, who loves reading and writing and doing the things that no one seems to have the time to do any more, who can express myself better with words, and knows the importance of the little things.

Copy and paste this to your profile, if you are anything like me, so the people who are different and unique can know in their weakest times that they are unique, but not alone.


	6. Tales of Mipsy the Traveler:Harry Potter

Title: **Tales of Mipsy the Traveler**  
Category: Books » Harry Potter  
Author: Drel Murn  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: K+  
Genre: Fantasy/General  
Published: 08-22-15, Updated: 03-13-16  
Chapters: 2, Words: 1,758

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Hawley and Jenin**

* * *

 **Hawly and Jenin**

Jenin was the fairest of all the elves that Hawley had ever seen, and he wished to court her, despite his lowly station as a stable elf. On her sixteenth birthdays, the first time she was available to be courted, he asked her parents for permission to court her.

"Only of you do our task," said her mother, her father agreeing, and Hawly eagerly agreed.

"You must make her a dress, a lovely dress, all work from your own hand," Jenin's mother said.

Hawly replied that he would, and set off, determined. First he went to those who tended the sheep for his Master, and they asked him why he wanted to learn to sheer a sheep.

Hawly said, "For to court my love, I must make a dress, a lovely dress, all from work by my own hand!"

The shepherds instantly cheered him him on, and together they volunteered five sheep that had yet to be sheered, and after showing him how on one sheep, he sheered the other four and was given the wool.

After he sheered the wool, all by his own hands, he went to those who worked the spindles, a shepherd by his side. Like the shepherds, they asked why he wanted to learn how to spin thread.

Hawly said, "For to court my love, I must make a dress, a lovely dress, all from work by my own hand!"

The spinners, too, cheered him on, and he was soon set to work on a spindle, an older elf who could no longer work instructing him as he spun the thread.

After he spun the thread, all by his own hands, he took it to the weavers, a shepherd and the elf who worked with him at the spindles by his side. Like those before them, they asked him why he wanted to learn how to weave, and like he had said before, Hawly replied, "For to court my love, I must make a dress, a lovely dress, all from work by my own hand!".

The weavers, too, cheered Hawley, and helped him in his quest, setting him to work with the young ones watching over him and picking out his mistakes.

After he wove the cloth, all by the work of his own hands, Hawly took his cloth to the tailors and seamstresses, a shepherd, the elf who worked with him at the spindles, and the young ones who helped him weave by his side.

"Why do you wish to make a dress?" they asked, curious.

Hawly said, "For to court my love, I must make a dress, a lovely dress, all from work by my own hand!"

And so they too helped, seamstresses bringing up what they knew about Jenin, and the tailors helping him cut and sew.

He finished, and took the dress to the parents of Jenin, a shepherd, the elf who worked with him at the spindles, the young ones who helped him weave, and a tailor and seamstress by his side.

"Here is a dress, a lovely dress, all from work by my own hand," he declared. "My hand sheered the sheep, my hand spun the thread, my hand wove the cloth, and my hand sewed the dress, but my hand was guided by those wiser than I. I wish that my gift is still worthy."

"Twas your your hand that sheered the sheep, your hand that spun the thread, your hand that wove the cloth, your hand that sewed the dress, and twas your voice that told me you were not alone," Jenin's mother said.

"Twas your your hand that sheered the sheep, your hand that spun the thread, your hand that wove the cloth, your hand that sewed the dress, and twas you that did this no other," Jenin's father said.

"Should Jenin wish, you have our blessing," they said together.

Now Jenin stepped from the crowd behind Hawly, pulling off her hat and robes.

"I saw that it twas your hand that made me a dress, a lovely dress, and I accept your offer of marriage."

* * *

 **Chapter 2: King Brub and his Consort Kari**

* * *

 **King Brub and his Consort Kari**

Long ago, in a land known as Atlantis, there was a small house elf named Kari, who was friends with three of the people who lived there.

One of the friends was a witch, who loved to laugh and to make foul tasting concoctions. Her name was Afna.

One of the friends was a werewolf, a kind old man who loved to help her clean, and who always gave her more clothes than she could ever wear. His name was Namath.

One of the friends was a merperson, and he loved diving deep to find pearls and giving them to his friends. His name was Brub.

But these three were not the only ones there, and some of the witches and wizards liked to order Kari around and force her to clean up after them, beating her when she tried to disobey or run away. Her friends tried to help her, but they could not be with her all the time, and things slowly escalated until one day Afna found Kari as pale as snow in a puddle of her own blood.

She quickly healed her up with potions she has made, and demanded that Kari tell her who had hurt her so. Kai was scared of her friend, and refused to do so, knowing what would happen should she reveal who had tried to kill her. Kari asked her friend why she was behaving so, and Afna came back to herself and fled from Atlantis in shame of her actions. Thus, Kari lost one of her friends and grieved, but was happy not to have allowed Afna to become a murderer.

Then, one day Namath found Kari locked in a closet while he was searching for her to ask if she needed help cleaning because he'd noticed that certain jobs assigned to her hadn't been done lately. Kari was desperate for water, and Namath quickly gave her some, asking furiously who had locked her in. She once again refused tosay who had tried to kill her, and asked him why he was behaving so. He came back to himself and fled from Atlantis in fear of himself and his action. Thus Kari lost another friend and grieved, but was once again happy that here friend had not become a murderer, as he had feared all his life.

But those who ordered her around were not finished with her, and had no care that she only had one friend left. One day, they tied her to heavy stones and drooped her into the ocean to drown. Brub saw her on the way down, and managed to cut her loose and help her to the surface before she could drown. He calmly asked her who was doing such things, and reassured by his calmness, she revealed that it was the prince of Altantis and his friends. They thought that because Kari was such a lowly elf, they could order her around without any consequences.

Brub went to the king with this news, and he was very displeased. If his son, the next king did not understand that even the most lowly of creatures deserved kindness, and should be asked instead of ordered, then he did not deserve his spot. He sent out messages to kingdoms far and near, telling them of a celebration and announcement he had to make, and inviting them to come.

Afna, who had hidden with a caravan of wanderers was surprised to receive a personal invitation.

Namath, who had hidden with a pack of werewolves like himself was also surprised to receive a personal invitation.

The Kings and Princes and Queens and alphas and other leaders gathered in the courtyard of Atlantis on the day that the announcement was to be made, Afna and Namath among them. The king stepped out onto the balcony and announced that he had grown old, and that it was time for his heir to take up the crown.

Afna and Namath were both horrified, knowing that the prince had no care for the lives around him. They were shocked when instead of the prince they had known, an merman, with his tail temporarily transfigured into legs was the one who stepped forward. they were even more shocked when they recognized the prince, soon to become king as the very Brub they had known years ago.

But that was nothing in comparison to their surprise at the prince's consort, who shyly stepped forward to accept her crown. It was Kari, dressed in the beautiful purples of royalty.

Later, after all the celebrations died down, they were invited together to a private audience with the new king. They both watched the door open, scared of what they might find, and were shocked when they got an armful of crying house elf.

It turned out that Kari had never forgotten them as her friends, and she was very glad that they were back. They were both ashamed, and when Kari calmed down, asked what had happened. Kari explained the whole story, and the two looked down at their feet.

Later, when Kari had gone to bed and left Afna and Namath alone with Brub, the two friends who had fled flung themselves at Brub's feet and asked for his forgiveness. He told them to come closer, and they both crawled forward till they were practically kissing his feet. Brub's hands came down . . .

And opened to reveal two necklaces with a pearl.

"I do declare thee, Afna the Witch and Namath the Werewolf to be lords withing my lands. Should they stray from the path that has led hem here, let them be cursed in look and in deed."

Openly crying, Afna and Namath asked what they had done to deserve this, and Brub smiled down on them.

"You tried to help my consort in the way you thought best. That is no crime, and should not be punished. It is the fleeing that brings shame, but you have felt that already, and I need all the help I can get."

Afna and Namath accepted their lordships, and to this day, the reign of King Brub and his Consort Kari along with their Lords Afna and Naman are legendary. Let it be known that while anger is not a sin, do not flee in fear of is, but stay calm and you can do more good.


	7. Sparks At My Fingertips:Harry Potter

Title: **Sparks At My Fingertips**  
Category: Books » Harry Potter  
Author: Drel Murn  
Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
Genre: Adventure/General  
Published: 01-14-17, Updated: 03-05-18  
Chapters: 8, Words: 10,413

* * *

 **Chapter 1: I'm Nothing More**

* * *

It was never, ever about the power for me. It was about the world that I lived in.

How do I explain this . . . I was the very last of a long line of very inbred purebloods, but whether or not we could actually be called magical at this point wouldn't exactly be a hard debate. I've seen muggles walk past our windows with more power in their bones than all of the power of my sibling parents and myself combined. None of my family have been invited to Hogwarts in at least ten generations, and even the lesser schools hidden in Knockturn Alley and Diurn Alley have been closed to us for the past five generations. We lost the right to even be called squibs really, but my family kept clinging to the Wizarding world.

You see, that's what I mean. I have no power, but I have a world. I won't give up a world with so much magic, so much wonder.

That's the train of thought that got me into this mess.

* * *

Hi. Briar Moore here. If you've gotten this far, I hope you're ready for the rest. I didn't have magic - I've told you this, but not all magic comes from a person. I learned when I was small to always hide lighters under up my sleeves. I didn't have any siblings, just having me had nearly killed my mother, but there were orphan children running free through the alley. People assume that all wizarding families are ancient, but in truth, they aren't. The ministry doesn't bother placing a child if they aren't.

I ran with them when I wasn't learning, when I wasn't plotting my way into Hogwarts. The older children looked at me and they saw my determination. These were the children in Slytherin, in Hufflepuff, in Ravenclaw, in Gryffindor, and these were the children that gave me Albus Dumbledore's letters to them with sly smiles and understanding nods. These are the children who work all summer to get another of the orphan children into Hogwarts with them. These are also the children that attend the furtive schools - the illegal schools - all hidden in the alley because they didn't make the cut. These are the Hogwarts students that always come back, time and time again, because the alleys are their home, no matter where they go.

I learned the magic behind potions, each step precise. I learned the magic in runes, and how to tear paper to active spells that work best without a wand.

For years, I learned to make power for myself. I wrote letters back to heads of houses when the orphan children of the alleyways got in trouble because I had the best hand writing. I was, after all, the last of my line, and my parents made sure I could write well. I knew the writing of the schools quill after years of seeing it on acceptance letters to the children of the alley way, and when my eleventh birthday approached, I knew I wouldn't be getting a letter from Hogwarts because I didn't have magic in my bones.

Then, Romulus whispered to me in the dead on the day, with the sun up high above and words of false reprimand under my fingers as I stood to hug the children coming back from Hogwarts, to hug the children coming back home. He said that having magic in my bones didn't matter, if I had sparks at my fingertips and spells at my belt. So I did what I always did. I wrote. It took me three days to pen my acceptance letter, every dot, every line perfectly the same as the waiver of the Hogwarts quill. It took me two more days to sign with Albus Dumbledore's signature, and every line was perfect.

I had to run to get it to Romulus before he fell asleep, and he looked over it with wide eyes before he started laughing. He took out his wax and helped me forge the Hogwarts seal as well, then promised to send it to me in the morning.

My parents were surprised when the letter came in the morning, they knew that magic did not lay in my bones, but they didn't say anything. They only smiled, and presented me with my many times great grandmother's wand. It was nine inches of a nice reddish wood from the redwoods in America that she'd loved and unicorn hair, and the only reason it sparked under my touch was the rune in my other sleeve that I'd rigged to work when I folded it.

It wasn't my parents that mailed the ministry, but a concerned mother of one of the orphan children, and with Pallas's help, I intercepted owls in mid air and forged replies between them ministry and the school board, insisting to each that I was on their list of children to go that year until they gave up and my name was put on the roster.

It was that self same concerned mother who took me to Platform 9 and ¾, with apologies falling from her lips even as the tight darkness of apparition took us. Romulus met us there, and he showed me gallantly onto the train, Pallas laughing and swatting at him as he tried to take her suitcase from her.

He left me in an empty compartment at the back of the train with parchment spread in front of me and an inkwell balanced precariously on the window sill, held only by a sticking rune. I looked up when a crossed the door, and I gently welcomed the (obviously muggleborn from her clothes) girl into the car because she whispered that that compartment she'd been in was too noisy.

Her name was Alicia Smith. We became friends over my parchment as I showed her how to move her wand for the spell she'd be curious about, and she showed me a muggle trick with a coin, making it roll over and around her fingers. Then suddenly I was across the lake I'd only heard of, done gasping at Hogwarts for the first time, done waiting, and my legs felt wobbly as I carefully sat myself on the chair just as wobbly as I was and the hat dropped over my eyes.

 _Well, what do we have here?_

I have forged letters between the school board and the ministry, the approval of parents who know what it's like to grap a world that doesn't need them, the hopes of a hundred street rat children. I have forged parent's letters for orphans, I have runes drawn on paper up my sleeves and drawn on my clothes, and I have ten different arguments, four frantic pleas, and a single threat smothered under my tongue as I wait because I have sent so many children here, but I'm the first squib.

I have a lighter on my belt next to potion after potion and a wand hanging next to them that will only ever produce sparks for me.

 _Well,_ the hat said, sounding positively gleeful. _Better be Slytherin._

The hat is lifted from my eyes, and I find people from all four houses clapping for me. I am not an orphan like they are, but I am what got them here, and there are grins all over and I practically float over to the Slytherin table. Romulus catches my eye for a moment as I move to sit down, and he nods to the staff table behind me. I glance over at them as I sit down, to see the staff looking dumbfound at my family.

The name of the boy that I sat down next to was Tom Riddle, and he looks small, huddled in his over large school robes as he was, but I don't let that stop me. He snaps back, the chill of early winter in his words, but I forge on because early winter is nothing next to the permafrost that Romulus can call upon when he's mad. Early winter is nothing next to the knives in the dark that I use to defend the orphans I've helped here, and by the end of dinner, I'd worn him down enough to get him to admit that he was an orphan.

"Is that all?" I ask. _Is that all_ , because no one can be described with only one word. I'm a squib, but that does not define me. I'm the last of my family's line, but neither does that. None of the orphans I know are ever just that. They are sharp and bright and strong and brave and gentle and loving and every trait that can be used to describe a person.

"Oh, leave him alone Moore. Riddle isn't a pureblood name, so he's probably nothing. At least you come from a long line, even if your ilk haven't produced any good magic in generations."

"Shut up, Black," I snap at the boy across from me, because not all of my orphans are pure or even half so. There are muggleborns who have wandered to us and never left. "What else are you, Riddle?"

Riddle stares at me, a visibly surprised look on his face. That night, when all of the haughty purebloods are asleep, I write letters under his watchful eyes, and sneak out to mail them too.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Than Who I Choose To Be**

* * *

When a letter comes from him the next morning - dropped on top of Tom's tea cup right after mine lands on my toast, his eyes are wide with surprise again as he glances over at me. Mercury, high above, delivers letters to all of my family before he finally settled in front of Romulus to let him take his letter, and Tom watches him the whole way with narrowed eyes before he bothers to open the letter I wrote to him.

It's only a simple congratulations, I don't really know much about him after all, but from the way he goes still as he reads it - like a cat that might scramble away any moment, like one of the muggleborn children who wandered into the maze of alleys I called home and looked at the homes that the orphans used for the first time - it's the first time he's ever received anything like it. There's a small postscript that welcomes him into the family, and when he's done reading, Tom Riddle looks over at me, then very deliberately folds the letter and slides it into a pocket of his robes.

Wednesday the second, is the first day of school, and I find myself watching the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws we have classes with when I can, but my attention keeps being pulled away from them and back to Tom, who would have been alone if I hadn't stuck to his side like a burr. A week passed in a blur, Alicia and I talking when we can, and suddenly I find myself having to quickly catch a satchel from Mercury before it can drop onto my toast and crush it. I'd always gotten my letters by way of a satchel before, but I'd forgotten that they came at breakfast. I glance inside at the jumble of letters in its magically expanded interior and smile.

I have to leave the dorm to do my pacing during the second week of school because of the incessant chatter of the girls in the center of the room. The boys had left already, gone off to socialize somewhere, I find myself pacing the hallways, back and forth, sometimes changing hallways as I think I want I want to help everyone, I need I need a way to fool everyone into thinking my wand works, I will make sure this works.

The third time I walked past the tapestry of some wizard and a bunch of trolls in pink ballet tutus and shoes, a door ground open, and I leaped backwards with my back against the wall and my heart in my mouth. The door doesn't stop grinding open, and by the time it's finally ground to a halt, I can see a library beyond the door, and in the far back, there's a potions cauldron suspended over a cold fireplace.

I walk carefully into the room and over to the books to see their titles. There are books on rones, on potions, on chemicals, on muggle magic tricks, and I pull some down to see more, and delight at their contents. I glance up when footsteps sound outside the door, and I see Tom Riddle standing there, watching me.

"Hello Tom. Was there something you wanted to say to me?"

"You missed dinner." He glanced around the room once. "It's almost time for curfew."

I don't have to bribe Tom to help me in Charms or in Transfiguration or in Defence. The first time we have a practical class, close to Halloween, I panic. I haven't figured out a good way to use runes to manipulate my feather yet, and the potion of psychokinesis is so far above my level that it's not even funny. I haven't even figured out a way to get my feather to twitch like even the most beginner witch or wizard could do with ten minutes of practice, but just as the professor reached me, Alicia letting her feather drop with a satisfied smile, Tom stepped up close to me and wrapped his ice cold fingers around my hand.

"It's more of a flick, Briar, not a jab," he told me, moving my hand in the same way I had been moving it. "Now say it with me, Wingardium Leviosa."

"Wingardium Leviosa," I repeat, and suddenly there's magic rushing through my hand in the same way it does whenever I apply a healing balm, and the feather in front of me twitches once, then gently floats. I watch it curiously, Tom's hand still directing mine with gentle movements, and Professor Longbottom claps her hands with a happy smile.

"There you go, Briar, wonderful job. Ten points to Slytherin!"

Transfiguration goes almost the same, with either Tom or Alicia (after she'd sharply demanded that Tom teach her) helping me as I frantically try to figure out the runes. They can't help me all the time though, and so sometimes I have to stand there with red cheeks as either Professor Mackenzie or Professor Dumbledore criticize my wand work before moving on to the next student. Defence is easier to fake, propulsion spells are indelicate and I have already learned how to throw little breakable capsules that have the same effect as I flick my useless wand.

I figure out more about Tom as he helps me. He doesn't really understand rules, and from what I can tell, it's because he was never truly punished before. There were too many children in the orphanage for the matron to really focus on him at all, and he'd always been circumspect enough that he was never caught, and never punished. One night, he comes over to me instead of just watching and sits down next to me. "How are you writing these?"

I show him the lists of different handwritings I've made, two for each child, and the books of letters I've kept - one book for everyone I've helped. Then I hand him one of the books and close the lid on the rest of them. "I haven't finished hers yet."

* * *

 **Chapter 3: I Will Stand Tall**

* * *

David Prewitt cornered me in the library after I'd told Alicia I was looking for a book. It wasn't entirely a lie, I had intended to just get the book, but the back of the library was a quiet place, and for a moment, looking at the titles of many books that were useless to me, I sit and let myself cry.

"Are you a squib?" he asks me in a rather dreamy voice. And I look up with my heart in my mouth because anyone who knows and follows the rules or saying that in the presence of people who follow the rules or hate squibs can get me expelled - "I put up an anti listening charm. No one can hear us."

I look up at him, and I didn't mean to spill everything, but he was just standing there and watching me with those eyes. My control breaks and snap and I pour out my whole story as I pace back and forth in front of him in the niche created by three bookshelves. I tell him what it's like to be denied by everyone who considered themselves proper members of society, just because I'm different. I tell him the hopelessness, the years of watching muggleborns and their parents and siblings walk past, all of them with more magic in their bones.

David listen to my whole story quietly, and when I'm done, by back to the corner, my voice rough and tears itching my cheeks, he knees down in front of me and sets a book down next to me. "I believe this is the book you were looking for."

I let myself look up, my chest still heaving with the sods that come with tears, to read the title of the book. An Introduction to Runic Transfiguration.

"You should have been in Ravenclaw," I say bitterly as I reach for the book, and when I look up, he staring at me with a gaze so disappointed that I look down. "Sorry."

The next day in Defence, David drops his bag in front of the third chair of the desk in the back of the Slytherin's side of the classroom, next to me, and he gives a sort of dreamy smile to Tom. "Fancy seeing you again. Is this seat taken?"

I had expected him to go to a teacher to tell them. Davis Prewitt is a pureblood, and he knows the rules, he has most likely been told over and over again that squibs are bad, that they taint magical blood with their disease. He's not like Tom, who regards rules as quaint things that don't really matter. He's not like Alicia, whose family doesn't have magic, who doesn't care that I don't have magic in my bones because I have kind words for her at my lips and a sharp tongue to defend her. He sits next to us week after week, in all of the classes we share, and I come to know him.

Transfiguration, at least, becomes simple once I've finally figured out how to use runes to do it. There's only one transfiguration matrix for everything. It's very much so magic, requiring a mind reading component to see what the user wants, and it's by far the most complicated thing I've done yet. I trace the pattern, looking proudly at the runes arrayed on the paper before me.

I tell Romulus in the Slytherin common room with privacy charms ten deep, and he nods, knowing the plan I'd detailed to him over the summer. He'll bring me back home for the weekend, and to one of the tattoo masters in the tangle of alleys to get the matrix imprinted on my skin so I can use it over and over again. And this is the first time Tom reads my mind. He grabs my wrist as the privacy enchantments fall, and he tells Romulus quite frankly that I won't be going anywhere without him, even though there was no way for him to have heard us.

We sneak out of Hogwarts, and a quick disapparation from just outside the wards later, we're in Knockturn Alley. Tom clutches at my robes until I grab his hand, and he holds that instead. I ignore the gloom air of the alley however, and make my way through the alley to the man I know does tatoos well. I've known him since I was a child, and he knows how to make true tattoos that will stay on your skin for the rest of your life, unlike the rest of the tattoo artists in the wizarding world, who only make ones that last for a month at best.

I come back to Hogwarts hours later, with the matrix on my sore shoulder, and a demiguise below it that has already slid down my arm to peek out of my sleeve from my wrist. When I step into the Great Hall for dinner, I'm practically tackled back into Tom's arms by a worried Alicia, who only lets go of me when David pulls her back. I glance beyond her into the Hall, and right now, I'm just so tired -

"Come on," Alicia said, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the Great Hall. "Let's go somewhere more private."

I want to protest - to eat something after my long and painful day - but Alicia is pulling me before I can open my mouth, and in the end, it's easier just to give in. Alicia brings us to a set of stairs leading downwards, and before I can protest, Tom sweeps me off my feet and starts down the stairs. I think about struggling because I'm not weak, not even now, but I decide to just relax against Tom. Before I close my eyes, I see David's gaze narrow.

I wake up from the haze I'd fallen into when Tom set me down on a wooden chair, and I accept the foor Alicia is holding out for me gratefully. When I'm done scarfing that down, I look up to see my friends watching me. I hold out my arm and pull my sleeve up so they can see first the demiguise, who blinks at them sleepily on my arm, then the matrix in black ink under my skin.

"I wondered how you were going to do that efficiently," David murmured as he looked over my arm. Alicia's attention was more on the demiguise climbing up my arm than on the runes on my shoulder.

"He's beautiful," she murmured, tracing fingers over his head, and laughing as he leaned into her hand.

"He's a demiguise," I reply, accepting a cup of tea from Tom with my other hand. "They turn invisible, and have precognitive abilities. I got him half because I've always rather wanted a demiguise tattoo, and half because he'll be able to hide the tattoo if I ever need him too."

Alicia looked up at me, and her smile faded somewhat at whatever it was she saw on my face. "You really are tired."

She pulled back, letting me drop my arm. "Alright. Do you want help back to your dormitory?"

"I'll be fine."

I stumble out of the kitchen and after a glance around myself, I start on my way to the Slytherin Common Room. As I take the winding corridors, it doesn't escape my notice that I'm being followed. I don't say anything though, simply letting Tom follow me. I brush a hand over the stone wall of the entrance - much better hidden than the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw entrances - and I sigh the password out just loud enough for it to register.

I stumble through the common room and collapse onto my bed.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: I Will Be Free**

* * *

I wake up in the morning to see Tom watching me. I'm still exhausted from last night, from the many nights before it took to keep up my letter writing network, and from the thrice cursed Wednesday night Astronomy lessons. I can hear the others in the dorm breathing, but I can't go back to sleep because my mind is already racing with what I have to do today.

"You need more help," Tom echoes my thoughts, and that might have been the second time he read my mind. "You were doing fine before, but there's not enough time not that you have school and disguises as well, even with my help."

I don't bother replying. Tom sighs. For a minute, we both listen to our room mates breathing. Then I shake my head and roll out of my bed.

"I'm going to change and go up for breakfast," I call softly as I shuffle over to my trunk.

When the pair of us emerge into the Great Hall, there's no one else there. Despite that, food is already arrayed along the tables. Tom and I settle down at ur usual spots, and dig in.

"So. Any plans?" Tom asks once we're both finished eating.

"Yes. I have noticed how much I've been falling behind. I was thinking about setting up something like a pen pal system. I'm just not entirely sure how to go about it."

"Are you talking about that orphan help network you've got set up?" someone asks from the entrance to the Great Hall, and I startle, my heart beating hard in my chest for a moment before I have the courage to see who had overheard us.

It's Filius Flitwick, a Ravenclaw from our year that I've already heard about from some of the orphans I take care of. The short boy jumps up onto our table, ignoring the Ravenclaw table behind us and pulling a plate of pancakes over to pile some onto his plate. When neither of us reply, he glances up. "Oh, don't worry, it wasn't blindingly obvious, I'm sure that no one else has figured it out. I just happen to be particularly good at analysing people's writing style."

"That may be, but you're not the only one able to analyse writing styles," I tell him. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." Flitwick takes a bit of the pancakes he'd put on his plate. "Or at least nothing more than keeping Markus Shacklebolt and Gawain Lanceson at Hogwarts. They are by far, some of the most interesting people I've met so far, and very good duelists for their age, as well."

He glances up from his pancakes. "So, what do you need?"

()

We moved out of the hall when another Ravenclaw wandered in, her book propped up against a bread bowl as she absently reached for something.

With Flitwick's help, we work out the basis of a system. By the time Alicia and David wander into the room I'd found while pacing, I had my books on each person spread out as I searched for people who write in a way similar to one of the handwritings I'd used. Tom, to my right, is using a printing press that had appeared in the room this time to make copies of the letter I wrote out; one for every person in the network.

"Tom? Briar? What on Earth are you two doing?" Alicia asks as the door slides shut behind David, glancing around at the piles of books I have open around me. She kneels down to pick up one of the books as I glance up. "Briar, this is a letter from Jerry. And this is from his parents! Where'd you get these?"

"For one, I wrote that one," I say, absently glancing at the page she was on. Then I pause, and glance back at it. "Oh! That's perfect!"

"Briar!" Alicia cried as I snatched the book out of her hand and compared it to the one that had been sitting on the desk in front of me. "What do you mean, you wrote it?"

"Jerry Red is an orphan, just like everyone else I've got a book on in here," I explain absently as I compare the handwriting in the two books. Jerry's handwriting looked nothing like the handwriting I had used for Tomas Oakley, but Jerry was an artist and he could probably do something close enough.

"You did know about the support network, didn't you?" Tom asks with an almost malicious smile. "Briar found out I was an orphan on the first day and gave me an invitation to join."

Alicia gaped at Tom, but David only sighed.

"I rather wondered why there were more and more people at Hogwarts despite the war. Usually, the opposite happens." He shook his head, then picked his way around my piles of books to stand next to me. "So, what do you need help with?"

()

Tom didn't quite note David's comment on war until we had done all we were going to be able to for the day - the remains of lunch and dinner piled in the corner of the room, and the books of letters and handwriting examples behind us as we read lazily on a couch in front of a fire.

"David. You said something about a war earlier. What exactly did you mean by that?" Tom asks slowly, looking up from the book he was reading.

"I meant that there's currently a war going on the wizarding world."

"I didn't know that," Alicia says quietly. I glance up from my book. The war . . . isn't something I think on much. Grindelwald's end goal is widely known, and the morality of it is much debated upon. Neither muggleborns nor purebloods are in full agreement with him, the muggleborns objecting to his desire to subjugate muggles, but admitting that it would be nice to have the playing field between them and the purebloods leveled, while the purebloods liked and disliked him for the exact opposite reasons. I slowly set my book aside.

"This is . . . the second time the same wizard has gone to war recently. His name is Gellert Grindelwald," I start.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: But It's Hard**

* * *

With Filius by my side (and a complete house set. People had been muttering back when I was just friends with Alicia, and with every new close friend I gain from a different house, the muttering grew worse. Now, I swear it's outright pandemonium!), I see a whole new side of the wizarding world.

Yes, I grew up on dark streets full of squalor, but apparently even my parents had some of the stupid pureblood standards I had been fighting all my life, because I hadn't really known how half-creatures were treated. I'm with Fil for but a moment before I hear the whispers, the slander. And the half-goblin doesn't even seem to notice, the words rolling off him like water off a duck's back.

When I ask him about it, he simply smiles at me.

"I'm used to it."

Flames that had been simmering quietly under a load of letter for the orphans at Hogwarts (a load now gone due to the system I'd spent days setting up) and homework (a load that has not gotten lighter, but more manageable now that I only have to write to one person) flare to life with the new fuel.

"Well, not any more," I say direly, and Tom, who had stuck to me like glue before he learned about the war and now acted like the white to my rice, looks up. The whispers are bitterly familiar, and while Fil seems to truly not mind them, I have no doubt that out there, there is someone who they hurt, someone who will break under the impact one day.

(I try not to think of the many wizards and squibs who live on the streets. For all that I do, I can never do enough. For every one orphan I have managed to save so far, there are five - ten - fifty that I simply didn't have enough money to help. (I try not to think of the broken spirits, about the people who broke after one comment to many. About the boys and the girls and the grown men and woman I'm held at nights as they fell apart sobbing.))

Fil is under my wing now, and while I hadn't done anything at first, as exhausted as I was, I no have the time, and the inclination to protect has never left me. I leave Hogwarts over winter break, and I come back to the twisting and winding alleyways I call home like a storm, with Tom and Alicia and Fil and David by my side.

I spend the first days blazing through the warren of streets in search of the homeless half-creatures I hadn't know about (hadn't cared about because no one had brought it to my attention, because I had so much on my hands that I didn't have time to look for anyone more who needed my help, because excuses, because excuses, Briar, I thought you were better than this). They were homeless. Helpless. And I had (no more excuses) ignored them.

I rally the Slytherins who have stayed in the alley without options, followed by the stain of a favorite teacher's caution. I write letters to the far off Ravenclaws, out searching the world for a place to belong, for music to play, for books to read and write. I floo the Hufflepuffs who have settled down and found homes, found families. I talk to the Gryffindors, walk between offices in the ministry, in St. Mungo's, with portkeys when I need them.

And as I wander the streets with more and more people behind me, I find others. There are the werewolves, the vampires, the dying fairies and spirits around every corner, so many people that I had never seen before, and this time, it was not just ignorance.

I have lived in this warren of alleyways my whole life, and yet I find that I suddenly do not know them like the back of my hand.

( It's magic , my parents explain when I finally get around to asking them. You can only see what you're ready to see.

And I want to protest, to say that I am ready, but every time I have a new group settled in, I turn a new corner and find more people.)

David comes over a couple of times over the break, and each time, he leads me to another group of people. After the first week, all of the houses I have access to are full, expanding charms stretched to their largest safe capacity, and still there are more people out there that I need to help. I can't even feed everyone I have right now.

I sit at the desk, desperately trying to rework the figures in my logbook to squeeze just a bit more out of what I have. The others have long since left by the me I finally give up and slam the logbook shut, then rest my arms on its cover and bury my face in them.

"You need more help," Tom says, echoing his words from months ago.

"There's no money for it."

"So figure it out," Tom says. I want to laugh, because he's right, and there's still not a damn thing I can do about it. We can keep duplicating food until the world is covered in them, but each duplication loses some of what makes food, and for all of the muggle chemistry, I haven't got the faintest clue as to why!

"We need food," I say out loud, repeating the thought that had been running through my mind for the past hours. "We need space."

"You need a farm," Tom says, and I blink at him.

"A farm?"

"Lots of land to expand on, and you can grow your own food." He shrugs. "It's not like you'll be at a loss for labour."

()

I don't know why Tom sticks with me. He doesn't care for people, doesn't care about them, and in the end, he doesn't really care about me. I can see it in his eyes. And yet he stays by my side through the long night and dark shadows.

("Who are your parents?" I ask one day, eyes closed. We're in my bedroom, trying to sleep with the shades closed. "Do you know anything about them?"

He's silent for a moment. "I know that my father's name was Tom Riddle."

"Do you want to find him?"

"I did." There's the sound of sheet moving and the bed creaking. I open my eyes to see him staring at me. "I don't anymore."

(I give him the slip next day and make my way through London with Pallas. She uses her wand to help us find Tom's orphanage, and we make small talk with the matron for a couple of minutes before I bluntly tell her that I'm adopting Tom.

She laughs.

I don't.

"You're what, ten?" the matron asks me. "Besides, the trouble maker's off at boarding school right now. We have no authority over him until he comes back."

I nod to Pallas, not taking my eyes off the matron, and she pulls out the papers I had forged.

"I have approval from his school already, and as you can see my family has been inspected and proclaimed to be a good fit." I smile at her. I don't know if it's a good smile. She's paying more attention now that she knows that there isn't much left. "All I need is your signature.")

(Christmas is a muggle thing, and all my family really celebrates over winter break is the solstice, the coming of longer days. I'm not really used to giving things like this as a consequence, and it takes a quick phone call to Alicia to make sure that I've everything correct.

I leave the wrapped adoption certificate on his bed at the end of the day.

Considering the giftwrapped lighter I found at the foot of the bed in the morning, I think I was a bit late.))

* * *

 **Chapter 6: To Stand Just Me**

* * *

I arrive back to Hogwarts and I start to network in earnest. Now that I'm thinking about halflings, I can't stop thinking about other groups that must be disadvantaged. I make up lists in my head, in the margins of my notes when no one's looking. I have a notebook where I plot out ways to contact them, to see what they want, and if they even want help, and to ways to start quietly advocating for them, and I work on it when I can't sleep, when I've done everything I possibly can for the project I have open, but I can't stand to do nothing.

I've found that I have something that must be a rather chronic case of insomnia, because even though I'm not forcing myself to stay up writing letters all night long, I can't get to sleep any earlier than I once did. Sometimes I wander the castle, and sometimes I sit in the common room, watching the mermaids and grindylows swim by. (Another name in the notebook.) Almost every single night I'm wandering outside of the common room, one of my friends manages to find me, and to wander with me.

Alicia takes me on grand tours of the dungeons and the ground floor, showing me secret passages and nooks and crannies that she'd found. She always takes me to the kitchens first, to get ourselves never ending cups of warm apple cider from the house elves. Sometimes, she takes me into her common room, and we talk with the founder of her house. (That's always interesting. It's at times fun and tiring to talk with her because there's so much misinformation that she corrects. There's so much that wizards have forgotten or gotten wrong or straight out ignored in order to fit stereotypes to their view of the world. ("From the talk in the common room, I have no doubt that they're starting to demonize the Slytherins. Don't listen to them. Honestly, if we'd known this was what the houses would come to, we wouldn't have made this system."))

David takes me through the hidden passageways to the furthest corners of the castle and around the outside. He introduces me to portraits and tells their stories. I learn more from him about wizarding history in fifteen minutes that I've learned from Binns all year.

He shows me great battles between the Slytherin Blair Hawk against the Hufflepuff Anise Rojas, where the participants of the portrait have long resigned themselves to being portraits, and only returned when someone was looking at their battlefield. I watch in fascination as their argument escalates, and their forces gather behind them until the first spell was thrown, and madness reigned until Hawk managed to subdue Rojas, and Rojas's forces surrendered.

He shows me the legendary duel between Gryffindor Noé Segal and Ravenclaw Edur Ochoa. Many occupants of other portraits crowd the stands behind them as Segal throws curses, and Ochoa responds but transfiguring him into a small kitten, bit by bit.

And on the third floor, he shows me a landscape painting of Hufflepuff Kai Nykvist fighting Ravenclaw Rhianu Maddox where the occupants haven't yet made peace, and spells fly between them as insults are shouted. Nykvist manages to get the upperhand every once in a while, and hold Maddox under a petrification hex or tie her up or stun her for a couple of hours, but she always manages to get free in the end.

Fil tells me the original uses of the rooms we pass through - a dueling room here, a ballroom there, an indoors observatory where you can still pull the stars down to surround you. (We find the star room as we're wandering before we have to go to Astronomy class, and I ask him why he thinks they make us get up in the middle of the night to go to class when there are rooms like this. In fact, why do we have Astronomy class at all?) But sometimes I don't feel like talking, sometimes I just want to run and jump and throw spells in bottles at him and be as free as I possibly can be because I'm in Hogwarts, and that's something I did.

In the day times, when I'm not writing and rewriting lists of people who might need my help, I'm thinking about how to rearrange things, how to stretch the money I have because two weeks of supporting the half creatures, and the savings I'd had before were almost gone. I can't buy the farm like Tom suggest because I don't have the money, but he'd reminded me that most of the half-creatures I'd found were adults. If the wizarding world, won't take them, there's room in the Muggle world.

I write letters back to the men and women and others that I'd put in charge, and I tell them to start looking for jobs. Some write back telling me that they need past recommendations, and I recruit Tom, with his knowledge of the muggle world to write up letters for each of the half creatures. I wrote letters for waiters and janitors, for musicians and carpenters, for stagehands and divers and nurses and haircutters, for clerks and accountants and cashiers until I was dizzy, and Tom looked the other way as Alicia stole a pair of Slytherin robes and snuck into the common room behind him to drag me out of there and into the snow. (I don't doubt that Romulus and Pallas had something to do with that as well, because the Slytherin robes Alicia stole were fitter exactly to her, better than her Gryffindor robes had been the last time i saw her.)

When I stumble back into the empty common room and back up to the bedroom to change, I find the rest of the letters done in various neat hands, a pack for each house tied together with twine, and Tom staring at some things in an open box as he sit on his bed.

I change into a different pair of robes quickly, check the splash stun and the impact shield bubbling away by my bed quietly before I walk over to sit next to him. Inside the box there are pieces of paper and vials and tins, and I recognise them as I glance over them. The first letter I wrote to him. The adoption papers. A bottle of splash stun I'd given him at some point, glowing faintly red in the green light of the lake window in its breakable glass. A tin of healing balm for bruises and scrapes. The paper with the runic matrix for transfiguration that I'd given him once it was tattooed on my shoulder.

"What's this?"

"Trophies."

I glance over them and note a couple of other things. One of Alicia's earrings - she'd lost the other, and had given the remaining one to Tom when he asked. A metal quill nib from David - he'd given Tom a pair and a lesson when he noticed Tom struggling. And there's a scrap of cloth - one of the half-creature girls had given it to Tom, when you unfold it, it looks like a gingerbread man.

"You want to walk with me?" I ask, because he shouldn't sit here moping with nothing to do. "David showed me some pretty wizard portraits of wizards fighting, and he told me how those wars happened."

Tom looks up at me, then nods. "Sure."

* * *

 **Chapter 7: It'll Be Okay Though**

* * *

I absently catch the satchel that Mercury drops and let it rest in my lap.

"Another satchel, Moore? Are you running the black market or something?" Alphard Black asks derisively from across the table.

"Yeah Moore, your family's been squibs for generations, there' no way you've got that many contacts in proper society," Katina Carrow adds, pushing a perfect curl behind her shoulder.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I reply blandly as Mercury circles back around and lands heavily on my arm. I bring him down and slide my plate in Tom's direction so that I can set Mercury on the table.

"Hello, beautiful," I tell Mercury as I offer him a piece of back, and tie the satchel I'd brought with me to his leg. I wait until he's done with the piece of bacon before I urge him back onto my arm, and throw him up so he can take flight. Once that's done, I take my plate back from Tom and quickly finish off my muffin.

"You all done?" I ask him as I swing the strap satchel that Mercury had brought over my shoulder.

"Close enough," he replies, swinging a leg over the bench as I do the same. I catch Professor Dumbledore's eyes lingering on Tom, and I bite back a scowl as I turn and make for the doors. That's the sixth time I've seen him watching Tom, and it's only been two weeks since we got back from Winter Break.

"Tom, Dumbledore hasn't done anything to you, has he?" I ask as familiar footsteps fall in around us.

"That's the eighth time he's stared at you this week," Alicia says, grabbing Tom's hand and swinging it slightly as we walk towards a quick route to the seventh floor., and the Changing Room I'd found there.

"He's been staring at me all year," Tom says. "And no, I don't know why. I don't really care either. He made me think that he had burned just about everything I owned when I asked him to prove that he was a wizard - I think he's bloody creepy."

"That's no way to introduce someone to magic," David says, and I glance back to see him frowning.

"Never mind Dumbledore," Fil says hastily as we turn right at the painting of several witches brewing a potion in a bright and sunny field, "Briar, have you opened the satchel yet?"

"Of course not, we need to get somewhere safe first, you know that," I reply as we turn another corner and start down an oddly bare hall. The others stop as we reach the tapestry of trolls in pale pink tulle and ballet shoes, and I pace back and forth concentrating on _somewhere safe, somewhere I can spread out to my heart's content, somewhere we can talk about everything in the letters from this morning and before._

A door grows out of the wall as I turn, stone becoming wood and metal as lifts itself from the wall, and I don't hesitate to pull the door open.

I glance around quickly at the room - it's different every time, even if I request the same thing. This time, there's a large table with plenty of room to spread papers on and enough chairs for the five of us, shoved up against a bank of large windows looking out the side of the castle and over the snow-covered grounds. On the wall opposite the windows, there's a fireplace with a roaring fire, and several chair gathered close

I set the satchel down on the table, take my seat, and immediately start to pull letters out. I open the first one and scan it quickly biting a lip as I focus on the pertinent information before I pass it over to Tom. The next couple letters are along the same vein as the first one, all of them proclaiming successes in finding jobs for the half-creatures, and giving numbers of those who have jobs, who are likely to have a job soon, and those who are still looking. The numbers are good across the board, with a fair amount of the half-creatures working.

I frown as I pick up the next letter. It's from Tatius, another of the wizards that helps me make sure orphans and new Hogwarts graduates have a place to live. He doesn't normally contact me - his house was already full when I went searching for half creatures, and I'd made sure that he had enough money to keep helping. I open the letter and scan it, quickly at first, then slower and slower as I get through more of it. The letter's not long - Tatius isn't one for small talk or platitudes - and for once I almost wish he was, wish there was something I could distract myself with.

"Briar?" Tom asks as I set the letter down in fnt of me. I consider it carefully, the white of the re-used muggle newspaper glaring at me against the warm wood f the desk that the room had provided.

"Let's finish the rest of these letters," I say finally, pushing the letter towards the window and grabbing the lext from the satchel.

The next several letters are much the same as the first bunch had been, and lulled into complacency, I almost miss the words of warning when they come. I put the letter on top of the one from Tatius with shaking hands, and ignore the look that Tom and the rest are giving me as I reach for the next. The rest of the letters are easy enough, and Fil, at the end of the table has them stacked neatly so that I can tally up the numbers and update me books.

"Now will you tell us what's wrong?" Alice asks softly, leaning forwards around Tom to put a hand over one of mine.

I push the papers towards Tom, dislodging Alicia's hand in the process, and learn forwards to rest my head on my arms so that I don't have to watch his reaction. From the way the others respond, it must be something terrible, and I can't help but move my head so that I'm looking at him as David gently takes the letters and scans them. Tom's pale, paler than I've ever seen him, paler than I think is healthy, and I can't very well blame him.

"Oh, my," David says softly. He passes the letters over to Fil as he stands then he moves over to Tom and gently starts working o pry his hand open. "Tom, you need to relax. Take a deep breath."

Fil dumps the papers in front of me, and wanders over to the fireplace to collapse into one of the arm chairs.

I sit up properly to tidy the papers up, and I read over them once again.

 _Moore,_

 _My Silanus says we need to get out of London before next year. I'll be moving to the country with a bit of money I've got saved up, and selling the house. I'll still host the brats of yours, but be careful. Tell the others._

 _Yours,_

 _Tatius Lightnight_

And the second one, less of a warning, but almost more disturbing for it.

 _Briar,_

 _One of the kids you rescued was part Korrigan, and apparently she's got enough in her to see the future, because last night she woke up in a terrible fuss. It took me hours to calm her down, and what seemed like a dozen cups of warm milk, and the whole time she kept telling me I had to warn you. She said that boy of yours - the magbob one - all covered in blood and surrounded by a destroyed building. She said something about seeing Diagon on fire, and part of my apartment collapsed, but apparently yur boy was the only one she saw who was hurt. This isn't the first time she's shown the Sight, so be careful._

 _I'm thinking of buying a place in Hogsmeade and getting away from Diagon . I don't know if I'll be able to find the money, but if I do, I'll take the kids with me, and more if I can fit them. I know this might be silly, but see if you can get some of the others to leave as well._

 _Yours,_

 _Silvia Lastoak_

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Interlude:Skal Greyback**

* * *

Skal Greyback

I try ignore the sensation eyes on my back as I hurry down Vertic Alley. There's only one or two people watching me, but even those cursory glances make the skin between my shoulderblades crawl. It's hard to stop myself from sighing in relief as I step off of the cobblestones and into the deep doorway.

I knock briskly on the oak door, blackened by time, and glance back at the street with darting eyes, trying to huddle closer to the door as a wizard walks past in a swirl of robes and smoke. It's unnatural to be around so many wizards, and the strange magic of this whole place sets my nerves on end. The acrid smell of Candlebright and other wizarding drugs make my nose tingle unpleasantly, and I cough into my sleeve.

The door I'm waiting in front of swings open abruptly to reveal a tall witch in an ancient set of forest green robes, with thick glasses that slide down her nose as she sizes me up.

"Yes?"

"Silvia Lastoak?" I ask the witch, pulling my cloak closer and flinching automatically when someone starts yelling across the street.

"That's me," she replies after a long moment, drawing my attention back abruptly. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Skal Greyback, ma'am. You told me to come to you if I had any questions . . ." I trail off, hopeful that this will be enough for her to let me in, but it doesn't seem to be ringing any bells. "You worked on my case as an Auror - kept them from throwing me in Azkaban for turning that sick child."

"Oh!" the witch says, recognition transforming her face into a much kinder visage as she smiles at me. "Yes I remember you!"

She quickly pulls the door open the rest of the way, revealing a hallway painted in a neutral shade of cream and box upon box stacked against one wall, and steps to the side so that I can come in. "It's a good thing you came today dear, a couple days later and I'd be gone!"

"Gone?" I ask as I step past her and turn to watch her close and lock the door.

"Yes, gone," Lastoak replies cheerfully as she leads me down the hallway and into a room that looks to be a combination of a sitting room and a kitchen, which is totally overrun with people. A thrill goes through me at the sight of them, my eyes immediately catching signs that most - if not all of them - were decidedly not entirely wizard, if they were part wizard at all.

A couple of adults look up as we come in, but most of them quickly go back to whatever they were doing as Lastoak leads me through the crowded room to a door on the far wall. She shuts the door behind us, and I glance around the new room - an office, littered with piles of paper and various instruments meant to help one distinguish friend from foe.

"I'll be moving to the countryside," Lastoak says as she settles herself behind the desk and moves a couple of piles of paper to the side so that the center was clear. "Come, sit down dear, and we can talk."

I seat myself on the edge of the chair, and watch as she folds her hands in front of herself and looks at me. "Alright. What it is you came to ask?"

"Is it true?" The question spills from my lips before I can stop it. "Back there, I saw - is it true that some one's helping - that someone's organizing jobs and food and shelter for half-creatures?"

Lastoak stares at me over the desk. Her eyes are as serious as they had been when she first caught me after I turned littler Fenrir, and a slight frown grows as she stares at me. If it's true - _magic_ , if it's _true_ \- then whoever it is might be willing to support others. There are so many things in the wizarding world that could make a werewolf pack run smoother, so many things that we can't access because of the laws placed upon us that drag every opportunity to do anything out from under our feet. Most of us already have a working system for food and shelter and jobs in the muggle world, we won't be needing that kind of help, but there are some diseases that eve a werewolf's metabolism and magic can't defeat, and there are littler comforts that I could give to those of us who are still as much wizard as wolf, and -

And all we want - all _I_ want - is of the opportunities that the Wizarding World denies us. I want representation in the government, I want to be able to walk the warren of alleyways here without being wary of every crowd that can turn into a mob. I want those of my people who grew up here to be able to live in the world they grew up in without being cursed for saving their own lives.

A clock ticks somewhere in the room, loud in the silence as Lastoak leans back against her chair. "It's true."

"Can you tell me who's behind it?" I demand.

"I can't."

The words bring me crashing down, and I stare at the witch.

"Why not?"

Maybe she doesn't know. God, that has to be it - the person has helped so many others -

"Greyback, you have to understand. The person behind this? They have no idea what they're doing. They're doing all of this because they hate seeing people in need, because they hate insults." The witch pauses, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Do you know why it is that wizards stay here in the middle of a muggle city, where they could be so easily discovered?"

I blink as her words, but nod cautiously. "There's some odd warp to the magic around the alleys - they only ever show you what you're ready to see."

The witch before me nods. "The one who organized this is still eleven. They only just discovered and started to help half-creatures over Winter Break. They're nowhere ready to even think about all of the other creature out there, when they're still discovering halfies every day they come back."

"Eleven," I repeat numbly.

Lastoak doesn't say anything. She just watches me with the same expression she'd watched me with when she was briefing me before me trial, when she hadn't expected me to walk free.

"Do you want to stay for tea dear? Rest a bit before you head out? I know you bunch are sensitive to Candlebright, and it's been rather popular in the alley lately," she finally asks.

"No," I murmur, then shake myself, and focus on Laskoak.

"No," I say again, this time sounding firmer. "But thank you. I should be going. If I may - why are you leaving?"

"Haven't you been paying attention to the news? I would have thought that you would know more than I do, since your lot all have jobs out there. It looks like the muggles might go to war. I don't trust that Hitler fellow, and several of my seers have seen flames, so I decided it was rather tiem to retire to the countryside."

"Right. I should be going," I repeat, standing as my mind races. "Thank you."


End file.
